Phoenix Ashes
by rubiesandrain
Summary: Katniss and Peeta come home from the Victory Tour, engaged. But, what if they were never sent back into the 75th Hunger Games? Another take on Catching Fire.
1. Chapter 1

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 1

The train screeched to a halt on the tracks outside District Twelve's train station. A little over six months ago I was on the same train, being taken away to the Capital to participate in the seventy fourth Hunger Games. Today, I was back from the Victory Tour in our honor. District Twelve, being our home, is our last stop. Peeta and I were home. But, this time, something was different about me. I left as Katniss Everdeen, victor of the seventy fourth Hunger Games and one of the star crossed lovers of District Twelve. I left with President Snow's thinly veiled threat over my head. I returned as the future Mrs. Peeta Mellark.

Although Snow shook his head indicating that we had not convinced him of our love story, I believed that once we were married, that would change. _Married_. I cringed at the word. I never wanted to be married, not just to Peeta. Not to anyone, ever. But, I couldn't worry about the fate of any of my future children now. It was too painful to start off with. Peeta and I's future children would probably be forced into the Hunger Games, forced to die. And we'd only be able to watch. Secondly, I had the safety of people I loved and cared about to protect. People who, unlike the children I may someday bear, were here now for Snow to hurt. People who were right outside the train car, on the platform, waiting for myself and my new fiancé's s return.

"Are you okay, Katniss?" Peeta said anxiously, turning to look into my eyes.

"Yes, I'm perfect." I gave him a grin, but he still looked anxious, his eyebrows were still furrowed.

"It's all going to be okay. I'm right here, and I promise everything's going to be okay." Peeta whispered in my ear.

I nodded, and he reached out for my hand. I grabbed his outstretched hand, and he squeezed it. Peeta was reassuring me. When Peeta acted like this, I wasn't sure if it was real. Was Peeta just acting for the cameras, or did he really want it to be real, like Haymitch suggested? Although we weren't in the public eye just yet, we were almost outside, where surely enough cameras would be waiting. And, I wasn't so sure that the Capital and Snow didn't have cameras everywhere, after Snow told me that he was aware of what Gale and I shared in the woods. If he saw that, what else did he know about Prim, Peeta, or the Hawthrones? That last thought seized me not only with fear for them, but anger at the Capital.

The door separating Peeta, our stylists, prep teams, Effie, Haymitch and I from the crowd on the platform opened. Suddenly, we were assaulted by reporters' questions and cameras flashing. Everyone in the Capital was enraptured with the star crossed lovers of District Twelve. And now that we weren't going to die at the hands of the Capital in the Hunger Games, they were even more interested. That interest had only increased tenfold since our engagement. Peeta squeezed my hand, and I squeezed his in return.

We stepped onto the platform, and my eyes zeroed in on Prim, my mother, and Gale. Gale, being my "cousin", was slightly behind them, but prim was standing in from of my mother, with her mother's hands on her shoulders. Prim smiled brighter than the sun when my eyes met hers, and she launched herself at me, and I let go of Peeta's hand to embrace her.

"Katniss, I missed you so much! I watched all the recaps of your speeches and you and Peeta were so amazing! I can't believe you two got engaged! I'm so excited! I can't wait for your toasting!" Prim gushed without taking a breath.

"I missed you too little duck." I whispered into her hair, and kissed her head.

My mother approached me, slowly, almost hesitant, while Gale hung back. Our relationship was improving, slowly, but nothing like what it was like before my father died. I just couldn't forgive her from withdrawing from Prim and I emotionally. But, after returning home from the Hunger Games, our relationship was mending. It was small things, yes, but slow was the only speed I could go at the moment. My mother put her hand on my forearm, touching it softly.

"I'm glad you're home." She said, so softly it was almost a whisper.

"I am too, mom." I replied, genuinely glad that I was back in Twelve.

I turned my head to the side, and saw Peeta and his father embracing. They released each other, and Peeta was immediately tackled to the ground by his two older brothers, Miche and Rye. I guess that even while he was a victor, he was still their little brother. He was lucky to have them, just like I was lucky to have Prim. Mr. Mellark looked on his sons with a mixture of pride and pure happiness. I could see it in his eyes. Whereas Peeta's mother, the woman that hit her own children for what seemed to be an accident, stood off to the side, nearer to the tracks, and on the edge of the circle that the Capital reporters had created around us. She had a look of unhappiness on her face, I decided, even though she wasn't smiling or frowning. She looked bored. Mr. Mellark caught my eye and smiled.

After untangling himself from Miche and Rye, Peeta stood up slowly. Although he had gotten much better walking with his prosthetic leg, sometimes he was still uneasy standing on it. I still feel very guilty about how he lost his leg. It was my makeshift tourniquet that cut off his blood flow that essentially killed his leg. He walked over to me, and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was surprised by this slightly, but I didn't show it. Around two dozen cameras and the eyes of Capital reporters were on us now. Peeta didn't even bat an eye. This was all probably because Peeta was such a naturally affectionate person. I was on the other end of the spectrum. I was only affectionate with Prim.

"We are so happy to be home. We are excited to celebrate both our victory in the Hunger Games and our recent engagement at the Harvest festival tonight." Peeta said, speaking to the reporters for us both in an even, measured tone.

"That will be all for now." Effie said and started to part the sea of reporters around us and our families.

I directed Prim towards my mother and Hazelle as we followed Haymitch off the platform and into an awaiting car. Our prep teams and stylists would meet us at the mayor's house, so that we could prepare for the harvest festival. We would have dinner at the mayor's house with our families and other public officials. This list, to my knowledge, just consisted of Cray and the mayor.

"You two were amazing back there!" Effie squealed.

"Yeah, just keep it up." Haymitch muttered.

"It was mainly Peeta." I said modestly.

It's true. It was mainly Peeta. At all our stops on the tour, Peeta had spoken for both of us. Peeta was the better speaker between us, and I was better at…hunting, I guess. I definitely had no personality, as Haymitch had pointed out to me last year. That was all Peeta's job. But now that he was speaking for both of us, as if we were a unit, it hit me. It hit me harder than it had when it happened. We were engaged. We were going to be married. He would be speaking for me forever in public. The car halted in front of Madge and the mayor's house, and we were let in the front door. I had always gone to the back door while selling strawberries to Madge or game to her father with Gale. Things were far from the same after the games for Peeta and me in District Twelve. No matter how hard we tried to make it normal, it would never be "normal" again.


	2. Chapter 2

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the tremendous response to the first chapter! I was overwhelmed! **

Peeta and I were quickly rushed up to the second floor by Effie. Effie always wanted us to be on schedule, especially during our Victory Tour. She opened a door on the left side of the hallway, and motioned me into it, and did the same to Peeta after opening the door across the hall. She then rushed down the stairs, muttering to herself about place settings and proper table etiquette. Peeta and I chuckled quietly to ourselves for a moment, and I turned to go into the room where torture was awaiting me, no doubt. And by torture, I mean my prep team brandishing curling irons and powder brushes.

"Katniss," Peeta said, effectively getting my attention, "What I said back there, on the train, I…"

"Katniss, dear, we need to get you ready!" Venia's head popped out, trilling about some glittery blush we had to try. "Oops! I'll give the lovers some time alone!"

Her head popped back into the room, and we were alone in Mayor Undersee's hallway. I could feel a blush rising up in my cheeks. We are not lovers. Peeta and I just engaged. And that's it. Peeta crosses the foot of carpet in between us in one stride, and looked at me, mirth and caprice in his eyes.

"Katniss Everdeen, victor of the seventy fourth Hunger Games, go conquer those eye brushes." Peeta joked, squeezing my hands.

"Oh, I'll make them do my bidding. When I come out, you probably won't even recognize me." I said, turning and opening the door.

Inside, Octavia, Flavius, and Venia had laid out countless tubes of makeup, just like it was for the rest of my Victory Tour. It seemed like they had arrived a little before us, as an evil contraption that I know knew was called the curling iron had a single curl of steam billowing away from it. After I had sat down in the chair, my prep team began to work away at my imperfections. I hardly had any imperfections now, though, at least not from the Hunger Games. Those scars had been wiped away, now that I was a victor. Too bad the Capital doctors couldn't wipe away the horrible memories, too.

Octavia and Venia began to work on my hair, while Flavius applies makeup to my cheeks and nose. While they work, they chatter about the daily nothings that happen in their lives in the Capital, but to people who are from the districts, just sounds frivolous and stupid. I mainly tuned them out, but I did happen to catch that the newest Capital fad was to dye your skin a pattern, and animal prints were the current favorites. They continued to poke and prod me with brushes until, suddenly it seems, they stand back and admire their work.

I turn to look in the mirror at myself and gasp. I look exactly like myself. Well, myself at my best. Not myself creeping around in the woods, hunting. Not my Seam self, coated in a thin layer of coal dust. But, the girl in the mirror is me none the less. No flashy makeup like there had been in the other districts, just a perfected version of myself, looking pure and happy. My cheeks were pink, and my skin was smooth and creamy. My hair was pulled back into a low bun, with a small braid on each side of my head.

"Well, what do you think?" Octavia said quietly.

I contemplated her question. I didn't look like I normally did while in Twelve, not by a longshot. But, I did look like Capital Katniss.

"It's nice, thank you." I said, with a small hint of happiness in my voice.

They moved towards the door, happily talking about the merits of lime green rain boots versus synthetic animal skin boots. I shook my head at how narrow minded they were, and sat there, waiting for Cinna to enter, as per custom on the tour. I looked in the mirror at myself. Was this flawless girl the face of Mrs. Peeta Mellark, victor of the seventy fourth Hunger Games and star crossed lover? Was this the woman that would return to the Capital every year to mentor helpless children? I couldn't imagine how heartbreaking and depressing that would be. It was only five months away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure shift in the corner of the mirror. Turning around, I saw Cinna, garment bag in hand, with a sweet smile on his face.

"Katniss, you look beautiful. Natural, just what I ordered." He moved behind me, and adjusted my hair, moving the braids more near my ears. "I wanted your neighbors to be able to recognize you. Now close your eyes."

I closed my eyes, because I trusted Cinna. I felt a soft fabric slip over my shoulders and arms and stop just below my knees. I opened my eyes, and gasped. I was in a black tiered dress, with three tiers that were shaped and colored in a way that looked like fire. When I turned to the side, they shimmered and moved like flames.

"Cinna, this is beautiful!" I gushed, impressed.

"Thank you. But, you know, I did have a beautiful inspiration." Cinna replied sincerely. I hated compliments, they always made me blush. But this one was sincere, I knew, coming from Cinna. "By the way," he continued, "I talked to President Snow's staff about your wedding dress."

"What? What happened?" I said, startled.

"Snow's staff asked me to design your wedding dress, and I agreed to it. I didn't think it was fair to make you design your own, my budding fashion protégé." Cinna, said, teasing me after the seriousness.

My mind reeled. Snow was planning my wedding, already. Would he let me make any of my own choices in my life, ever? How soon would he want the wedding? I was still just getting used to the idea myself. So much had happened; a year ago I wouldn't recognize myself now. If you told the old me that I would've won the Hunger Games and was engaged to Peeta Mellark, I would've laughed in their face. But here I am. Cinna leaned over to whisper in my ear. He probably wasn't as paranoid as me, thinking that there were audio devices hidden in the corners of the room, but he probably just wanted to tell me something loving, in a friendly way.

"I'm so proud of you, Katniss. And I'm still betting on you, Girl on Fire." Cinna whispered tenderly, and left the room.

For a long time after Cinna left, I just sat there, my mind still reeling. I looked at the clock, and I still had about a half hour before Peeta and I were back on Effie's rigid schedule. That was the one thing I loved about my prep team: they worked fast and efficiently. I slipped on my black pumps (luckily they were not very high) and decided to find Madge.

Madge and I were friends before my reaping. Not friends, really more like companions. I sold her father food, and she'd be there, so we'd chat. We were both quiet in school, so we just gravitated towards each other, because we were different. While I had the weight of supporting my family on my shoulders, the weight that a child so young should never have to bear, Madge was above all of us in District Twelve, because her father was the mayor. And, although compared to the Capital that meant next to nothing, here people resented it, if only slightly. After I came home to Twelve after the games, I began to enjoy Madge's company more. She's a good listener, understanding, and doesn't judge me.

I wandered around the second floor of her house, not knowing exactly where her bedroom was. I had only been to her house when I was selling game or plants with Gale, and never after we had become friends after my games had we gone to her house to talk. We always met up at my house in the Victor's Village or walked around town or the Seam. Suddenly I stopped, grateful that both my ears could hear yet again. I heard a soft, sweet humming coming from a room a few doors down.

"Madge, are you in here?" I knocked. "It's Katniss."

The humming stopped, and I heard Madge take light, springy footsteps towards the door. Madge opened the door, and hugged me lightly, probably not to ruin my hair, or something ridiculous like that.

"Katniss, you look so nice! Come in, I was just braiding my hair!" Madge practically squealed, and opened her door wider, gesturing me in.

I looked around Madge's room. It wasn't anything like the homes in the Seam, but it was much less splendid than the Capital's homes. But, if I had never been through the Hunger Games, it would've been the best house I had ever seen, for it was the best in District Twelve. Madge gestured for me to sit down, so I sat on the edge of her bed.

"Congratulations on your engagement." She said excitedly. When Madge talked it was always meaningful and happy.

"Thank you, Peeta and I are both very happy." I said, attempting to give a generic enough answer that I had been giving everyone except for the select few.

"Katniss…" She paused briefly, considering my expression, "…is there anything wrong? With you and Peeta, I mean? You can tell me. I won't tell."

"Well, Madge, I don't know. I can't do any better than Peeta." I said, remembering Haymitch's words, "But, we're just so young."

I lied. I just lied to Madge, probably my best girl friend. Actually, she was probably my only friend other than Gale. Cinna, Haymitch, and Peeta were my friends, but they were also my closest allies. They all supported me and had my best interests at heart. We were friends, yes, but to categorize them the same as Gale seemed wrong. We had a bond because of the Hunger Games, one that was stronger than friendship. I couldn't even describe it. It bothered me that I had lied to Madge, yes. Madge was my friend. But, she was also naive to how much control Snow had over Victors, and in all reality, how was lying to her different than lying to all of Panem?

"Yeah, you both are only sixteen." She agreed, taking a deep breath, "But, you and Peeta have been through a lot together, as district partners and as a couple. You both almost died in the arena. You both have been through more than all the couples in District Twelve, although you're only sixteen. You deserve happiness."

And hearing her say it, I could see it. I could see us being happy together. We did deserve it, but on our own terms, if ever, and that just wasn't meant to be. Snow was going to force us into this, weather we wanted to or not. Peeta knew this, and so did I. Marry or face the consequences. Conform to what the Capital wanted, or face the consequences. I took a deep breath and, faced Madge.

"Thanks, Madge."

"Oh, no problem," She said, shrugging it off, "You are just having pre-wedding jitters, a little early, of course. But, you always think ahead Katniss, so I'm not alarmed." She laughed.

A knock sounded at the door, and Effie rushed in, looking flustered. She looked as flustered as I had ever seen her: her wig was slightly askew, and the clipboard in her hands was trembling. She looked at me, probably checking over my appearance for any indication that it was ruined.

"Katniss, thank heavens I found you! You're due downstairs in, "She checked her watch, "Two minutes and thirty seconds and counting! And, are you Madge Undersee?" She asked Madge. Not waiting for Madge's answer, she bustled us both towards the lower level of the house.

Madge and Effie both went down the stairs, while I was practically ordered to wait by the staircase for Peeta, so we could make our "entrance" together. I cringed at this, but obliged. Effie would've probably had a cow if I hadn't followed her detailed schedule and disappeared again. I leaned on the banister of the staircase, thinking while waiting for Peeta. It truly felt satisfying to be back in District Twelve.

I heard heavy footsteps behind me, and that was practically Peeta's trademark, and now that one of his legs was no longer real. I cringed again. I shouldn't be thinking about that, as him not having one limb anymore was my fault. I let Peeta get closer, letting him think he had the upper hand, and then turned suddenly.

I appraised Peeta's outfit. It was very similar, when I compared it to my own: black Pants, black shirt, a tie that looked like a flame, and black dress shoes. Great, Portia and Cinna are trying to play us off like a matched pair again. Except this time, it hit me suddenly, we _were_ a matched set. They should be presenting us as a pair. We were engaged.

"Katniss, you didn't just conquer those brushes, you dominated them into submission." Peeta commented, his voice quiet, "You look stunning."

"Thanks, Peeta." I said, while we intertwined our arms.

We talked down the stairs, at least somewhat gracefully. It looked like Effie's etiquette lessons had been paying off, because I didn't trip or stumble on way down the staircase or on my way towards our seats in the middle of the table. Peeta pulled out my chair and then sat on my right. Prim was to my left. Our Prep teams, our stylists, and our families were all in attendance, in addition to Cray and the Undersees.

Although the food was better than anything she had eaten in District Twelve ever, the meal was still very awkward. Peeta and Mr. Mellark tried to make small talk about the bakery, the weather, about anything of consequence. But, unfortunately for them, no one at the table was really chatty, except for Prim. Miche and Rye were stuffing their faces, not that I blamed them, and Mrs. Mellark was scowling into her roast beef. The stylists and the prep teams were talking among themselves, and Haymitch looked completely drunk, and was rambling on to Effie about some nonsense with slurred words.

After the meal, we were all ushered onto the platform set up outside the Justice Building in the town square. Peeta grabbed my hand, and let me go up on the stage first. I walked up, slowly. This was the same stage that I walked up, about a half a year ago, jogged up on to volunteer for my sister. I never expected to be back here. I never expected to make it home. This was no time to break down, though; I had to keep a straight face. Cameras were focused on us now and the shots they captured would be played live in the Capital and be recapped later. In the square, people were dancing along to a fiddler playing off to the side and people eating food freely and merrily off of kiosks set up to the side.

This was one of the benefits of being a Victor. Although we had to go on Victory Tours and mentor in the Capital every year, plus do whatever Snow asks of us, our district was fed. Once a month for a year, a train arrived to the station with food rations for each family. Each family got various canned foods, plus grain and occasionally a special treat like candy or fresh fruit or vegetables. When the first had come in about a week after our return, I dragged myself out of my bed, braided my hair and went to the train station, and watched families eagerly accept their share. That was the first, and probably one of the only times, I felt good about being a Victor.

On stage, Haymitch was stationed in his usual seat on the right, next to Effie. Our stylists were on the left, next to our respective prep teams. Mayor Undersee was at the microphone, holding plaques. We stood slightly behind him, like we did with all the other district's mayors. Suddenly, I panicked. I didn't have a speech prepared. Not even something slightly special. Victors normally had something a little more elaborate or touching for their homes, even if it was short. But, after the debacle in Eleven, I didn't think we would be allowed. I glanced over at Peeta. He surely had something planned. Or he would just do say it on the fly. I could, do that too, right? Who was I kidding? I am terrible with expressing my thoughts in words, and Peeta was amazing.

"To honor our Victors, the Victors of District Twelve, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, I would like to present them with these plaques on behalf of the entire district." Mayor Undersee gestured us forward, and we accepted them, all happy and humble.

"Thank you, Mayor Undersee." I started, grasping the microphone stand, "I just want to thank all of District Twelve for supporting me all those years, and especially during my games. I am happy to be home, and can't wait to settle in. I am so grateful to my family and friends, who have helped me through so many things. Thank you."

I stepped away from the microphone. That wasn't so hard. I didn't have to mention the Capital; I didn't have to mention my engagement. Peeta forward, and cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Mayor Undersee, for this plaque. I'm sure I will cherish it for many years to come." Peeta started. "District Twelve is such a special place to me. It's where I grew up, where my family is. It's where I learned to bake, learned to paint. But, most importantly, it's where I met my beautiful fiancé, Katniss. I am truly grateful for her, and a, looking forward to many future memories here in the future with her and all of you."


	3. Chapter 3

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 3

"Run!" I yelled to Peeta as we jumped over the edge of the stage.

I ran through the deserted streets of District Twelve, my Harvest Festival dress ripping up my thighs as I ran. It was too tight for running anyway. I kicked off my black heels. They weren't right for running either. Peeta was right behind me, panting. I could hear him at my heels, his false leg clunking in tandem with his natural, real one. We turned onto another street the one behind the bakery and the other shops.

"Just keep running, Peeta!" I screamed as I ran past the apple tree where I had sat all those years ago in the rain.

I looked back at them, the things that were hunting us. It was the muttations, from the arena. They had come back. My former rival tributes, they were there, in muttation form: Thresh, Foxface, Glimmer, Marvel, Clove, and even the tributes whose names I wasn't privy to. And, Rue, Little Rue in the back, not lagging behind despite her small size. For what she lacked in size, she made up with speed. All of them, every last one, had the blood of Cato on their bodies: on their fur, on their paws, or on their muzzles. Their leader up front, though, was one I didn't recognize as a tribute. The muttation had white hair, and a thicker muzzle than the rest of the tribute-muttations. On the muttation's dog tag was not a number, but a picture of a white rose, and then I realized. It was Snow.

I woke up in my own bed in Victor's Village, breathing heavily and bolting upright. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to calm myself down. Then, remembering the Victory Tour had ended, I smiled. Although my dreams would no longer be extinguished by Peeta's touch, in some ways it was worth it. Although the dreams had clearly come back with a vengeance and were as horrifying and terrible as ever, I could resume the "new normal" routine I had established five months ago, a month after I had returned.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed, my sock clad feet touching the floor. It was weird; having my feet hit a warm floor in the morning, even if I did sleep with my socks on. Just another change from when I wasn't a Victor, from when my life was normal. I threw on my normal clothes, a tunic and pants, again grateful that the Victory Tour was over. I loved the clothes Cinna made for me and made on my behalf, they were beautiful, but they weren't as comfortable as what I wore around Twelve and at home.

I made my way out of my bedroom and down the stairs, smiling as I heard Prim rambling on to my mother in what sounded like was the kitchen. I headed in their direction. I hoped something good was for breakfast. Now that we had more money than we knew what to do with, I no longer had to hunt every day to make sure we had food on the table. I enjoyed it, though, and it soothed me. Hunting made me feel like I was still me. I also fed Gale's family with that meat. He worked in the mines now, so he didn't have time to check his snares every day. And, of course, Gale wouldn't take any of my spare money. He, like me, didn't like owing people.

"Morning, how did you sleep?" I asked my mother and Prim, taking a slab of goat cheese from the middle of the table and spreading it on some bread.

"Good! Buttercup came in during the night through the window and slept at the end of my bed!" Prim gushed.

While I wouldn't think of that thing coming in and sleeping in my bed the best thing to wake up to, Prim did. She loved that cat, and it loved her back, so I didn't comment and just nodded while stuffing another chunk of bread in my mouth. Prim's hair was loose around her shoulders. I normally braided it every day before we went to school. I moved over to her, and separated her hair into six strands, three to each side. Although I had taught Prim to after I came back, she still liked when I braided it in the morning. It was a morning ritual, of sorts. While I started the rhythmic motion, I wondered who had braided it while I was in the Hunger Games.

"Let's go, it's time for school, Prim." I said, tying off her braids with blue ribbon and sighed, shaking away that thought. I couldn't allow myself to slip into those kinds thoughts.

I walked Prim to school now, before checking the snares or just going home. Apparently, to the Capital officials, you were smart enough to leave school if you won a Hunger Games. Either that or they thought that you had so much money, that you didn't need to learn about the only thing they taught you about anyway. Everything we were taught related back to coal or Panem nationalism. And, we all were supposed to take up a "talent" to take up our time. But, walking to school with Prim not only gave me something to do with my time, but it was an old tradition from when we went to school together.

"Katniss, take some money with you, and pick up some bread on the way home." My mother said looking up from the herb cabinet, "We're running low."

"Okay, we're leaving now!" I yelled, putting on a newer pair of boots than my hunting ones and a double breasted black jacket.

I helped Prim into her pink jacket and while she put her boots on and grabbed her books off the side table I grabbed the money out of a drawer. Once my family had enough money than we knew what to do with, we had no idea where to physically put it. Normally, I just traded for things immediately, squirrel for bread, herbs for potatoes, and the like. If we didn't barter items and I did receive money, it would be spent immediately, being split between Gale and I. So, when I started I receive an almost obscene amount of Capital money monthly, I wasn't sure where to put it. So, I just put it in the desk in the office where Prim did homework. It made sense, because that particular drawer locked, but it only was occasionally.

Prim and I bounded out the door, not wanting her to be late for school. We walked down the cobbled street in Victor's Village, Prim chattering away. She informed me about all the things that happened while I was away, from a woman whose baby she and my mother delivered in the Seam to how much milk and cheese Lady had produced while I was away. We approached the end of the path that connected our houses in Victor's Village with the town square and the rest of the district.

At this time of day, people are always in the town square milling about. Shops had been open for a half hour, and people were doing their shopping, going to work in the shops, or exchanging pleasantries. Today though, as Prim and I walked across the square, chatting quietly, no one approached us. Although the people from the town never really chatted with me anyway, at least not for long, it was still odd. The people from the town congratulated Peeta normally, and only spoke to me occasionally and minimally. Although there was excitement about our recent win, Peeta was the favorite, not that I can blame them. Peeta was always more personable than me, and I just fed off of him. Today, though, no one approached Prim or I. They just cast wary and ambiguous glances our way. Not Prim's way as much as mine.

We arrived at the rundown school building that housed all twelve grades. Most of the kids who graduated from here didn't go on to anything spectacular, they went on to become coal miners, wives, or they would work in the shops their parents owned until they inherited the business. You didn't do anything else, unless you died in the Hunger Games. The only living exceptions were Haymitch, Peeta, and I.

"Goodbye Prim. I'll pick you up after school. Stay safe, my little duck." I said, kissing her forehead and hugging her tightly. I would never take Prim being near for granted again.

"Bye-bye Katniss, I'll see you this afternoon!" Prim said, her voice muffled by my shirt.

Prim remained in my embrace for a few more seconds until I released her. She skipped away from me happily, her skirt swishing around her knees. I sighed, hoping I could keep Prim as innocent as possible for as long as possible. I watched Prim turn back and wave at me when she reached the doors of the building. I raised my hand in return.

As Prim pranced into school, I turned around and started to walk back towards the square. Parents who had walked their children to school were avoiding my gaze or worse, openly glancing at me with a look I couldn't identify when they thought I couldn't see them. I couldn't understand it. This never had happened before. Instead of heading to the bakery like I should've, I headed again towards Victor's Village. I needed to speak to Haymitch about the odd looks and treatment. What if this was something about Snow or the Capital?

Haymitch had become an invaluable resource in the time since we had won the games. He lived between Peeta and me and, even though we hadn't talked before the tour, I was aware that he had asked Haymitch for advice just as much as I had. I walked up the street, and past Peeta's house. I approached Haymitch's door, and pushed it open, not bothering to knock. If Haymitch was drunk and passed out, then he wouldn't answer. But, even if he was just drinking, he wouldn't answer anyway.

I walked into the hallway, knowing he'd be in the kitchen, nursing a bottle. It was, after all, only about nine in the morning. Haymitch snapped up, a knife in his right hand and a bottle in the other. I understood his paranoia, so I just held up my hands in mock defeat.

"It's only me, Haymitch." I said dryly.

"Ah, sweetheart, to what do I owe this untimely visit? I was a little busy here." Haymitch said, lowering his knife and gesturing to the bottle in his hand.

I took a deep breath, thinking. Haymitch took a long swig out of his bottle. What if it was just inside my head? What if I was becoming paranoid? I decided to take the chance that I wasn't and tell Haymitch. He was, after all, still my mentor in a way. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and started.

"Haymitch, today I walked Prim to school, like always." I stated, and Haymitch nodded, indicating me to continue, "But today, people were staring. And, they weren't just staring normally like before. It was completely different. It was odd, disconcerting, and perplexing. Has something happened that I am not aware of, something to do with the Capital?"

There, I had gotten it off my chest. I watched as Haymitch ran a hand through his hair and over the stubble on his chin. He was thinking, considering. He took another swig of the foul-smelling alcohol. Couldn't that drunk just answer my question outright and not keep me waiting?

"Sweetheart," He started slowly, "People don't know what to make of you now. You don't fit into a mold."

What? I didn't fit into a mold? What was that supposed to mean? Apparently, a confused look passed on my face because Haymitch took another sip and locked his eyes onto mine.

"You don't fit into the Seam anymore. You're still their hero, but you're engaged to Peeta. You're not just only a Victor anymore, Sweetheart, with riches galore and all the glamor of the Capital." He said ruefully, like that was such an honor, "But, that being said, you can't fit into the Merchants like Peeta can, because you're from the Seam. You're a breed all your own."

I gaped at him. I am a breed all my own. Never to fit in anywhere, except with this drunken man and even him not completely. But, that couldn't be true. There must be someone else, someone who I at least shared that other half that Haymitch and I didn't. Suddenly, I remembered who exactly that person was. But, the thought was saddening. That person, the only one who was that other understanding half was my mother.

My mother had left her privileged life in the town to marry my father right after she was no longer eligible for the reaping. Her parents and her former friends cut off all ties to her. Everyone shunned her. No one even helped us when my father died. She was utterly alone, and we were utterly helpless. We almost starved to death. Was my life to be as hard as my mother's?

"Thank you, Haymitch." I whispered, and moved towards the door. Haymitch grunted in response, and I heard the alcohol swish in the glass bottle and Haymitch slump back down.

I slammed the door, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I didn't want the hard life my mother had. The Capital was making my life miserable. Snow was complicating my life. Then, my mind stopped reeling. Peeta wasn't acting in the arena. Peeta loved me, I guess. I would never be alone, in the Capital or in District Twelve. Our situation was different than Haymitch's or my mother's.

I walked to my house slowly, dragging my feet, not wanting to see my mother, but not wanting to face the looks of confusion of the people around me either. I felt the bag of money jingle next to my leg. Oh right, I was supposed to pick up bread. After that, maybe I could just drop off the bread at my house and hunt in the woods to clear my head. I needed to be alone with my thoughts. But, first, I had to venture into town, unfortunately.

I walked through the square for the third time that day, avoiding the gaze of everyone around me by looking determinedly at my shoes. If it was busy here before I talked with Haymitch, it was twice that now. I felt awful, as I could feel everyone's gaze on my back and the top of my head. I would rather have Capital citizens stare. At least they would only want information about Peeta and I's fake relationship, not condemning my social status that no one else shared.

I entered the bakery, finally lifting my gaze as the bell over the door rang. I looked at who was manning the counter, grateful that it wasn't Mrs. Mellark or Peeta. It was Mr. Mellark instead. Mrs. Mellark had never liked people from the Seam, and often let her prejudice get the best of her. Needless to say, she had been furious when she heard that I was engaged to her youngest son. Peeta worked in the bakery still when he was home in Twelve. He loved frosting the cakes and making the bread, and I think it made him feel as though he had never been reaped and had never won the Hunger Games, like hunting for me. Mr. Mellark looked up from his business ledger and smiled warmly at me.

"Hello Katniss how are you?" He asked as I walked towards the counter.

"I'm fine, Mr. Mellark, how's business today?" I asked absentmindedly Mr. Mellark's temperament was always nonabrasive and easy.

"It's going well today Katniss. The dinner last night went well." He said, and then paused. "What can I get you today?"

"Yes, it went well, but I'm glad to be back in Twelve after the Tour, just as Peeta probably is." I said.

"Dad, where's the green frosting bag and yeast, I can't find them!" Peeta's voice called from beyond my line of sight.

I was startled. I didn't know Peeta was working today, or I would've had Prim come in after school. Peeta strode up front, and stopped upon seeing me. He was dressed in a simple pair of pants, a white tee shirt, and a soiled apron. His hands were all covered in flour. These were probably clothes from his life before, not ones that Portia would've given him for public appearances. He wiped his hands on his apron, and smiled.

"Katniss, I wasn't expecting you!" Peeta smiled widely, and came around from the counter, hugging me tentatively. I hugged him back.

Although I knew that these actions were only motions, and we were only in the presence of his father, we needed the practice. Also, anyone could walk in at any moment or be looking through the window. We couldn't take the risk of only acting like friends, not an engaged couple. I pulled back, and pecked him on the lips.

"Peeta! I'm not here to visit you! I am here to pick up baked goods!" I said, swatting him on the arm good naturedly.

"In that case, what can I get you?" Peeta said, kissing my temple and then acting serious, although a smile still played on his lips.

"A dozen cheese buns and two loaves of white bread please." I requested.

Peeta turned silently, moving to a rack teeming with baked goods, leaving me alone at the front of the shop with his father. Mr. Mellark smiled at me, and then turned to wipe his hands on a dish towel he grabbed from under the counter. He moved from behind the counter to in front of me. I stood stock still, perplexed, until he enveloped me in his arms.

"Welcome to the family, Katniss." He whispered in my hair, "I've always wanted a daughter…and you've made Peeta so happy."

"Thank you Mr. Mellark." I said quietly, returning his embrace. I had his acceptance. I was lucky.

After a moment, we broke apart, Mr. Mellark still smiling like a child who had just received a piece of cake. I was grinning softly back.

"You know," He commented, chuckling softly, "When I picked Peeta up from his first day of school, do you know what he said to me?"

"What, Mr. Mellark?" I said, curiously.

"He said 'Daddy, I found the girl I'm going to marry. She's Katniss, that one you showed me. She sings like the birds.' I guess he was right, eh?"

"Dad, if you are going to tell childhood stories about me, can I at least be there for them?" Peeta groaned.

I turned to look at him. His face was bright pink. He was embarrassed. I looked back to Mr. Mellark, who nodded in response to my unasked question about the veracity of the story. I took it as the truth, because Peeta hardly ever was embarrassed.

"Aw, Peeta, I think that's nice." I said, attempting to achieve a tone that a cooing woman would take pride in.

"Yeah, well…you have a beautiful singing voice." Peeta said quietly, handing me the cheese buns and loaves of bread.

"Thanks Peeta, Mr. Mellark." I said, taking the money out of my pocket and handing it to them, "But I still have a few errands to run. I'll see you later?"

They both nodded in response, and I accepted hugs from both of them. Mr. Mellark gave me a peck on the cheek, while Peeta gave me a kiss on the lips. I threw my free arm around his neck, and he had both of his arms wrapped around my waist. I walked towards the door, then turned and stopped as I pushed it open a little, the bell dinging.

"Mr. Mellark, if you have any more embarrassing stories about Peeta's childhood to tell me, you know where to find me. "I said a small smile on my face.

Mr. Mellark let out a booming laugh and Peeta complained. I chuckled, closing the door behind me. I moved across the square quickly still not wanted to meet the eyes of anyone. The emotional weight in my heart about my state of being was lightened, but my mind was still going at the speed of a Capital train. I needed to get away, to think in peace. I opened my door, walking through and setting the baked goods on the counter.

"I'm going to the woods!" I yelled to a seemingly empty house. I knew my mother was probably there, but didn't wait for her answer.

After heading to the Seam and putting on my father's hunting jacket and shabbier boots, I went under the fence. I took my bow out of a tree trunk, walked a few more yards and took my sheath of arrows out of an old tree stump. At that point, I was completely focused on hunting. After I came back from the Games, my archery skills had just gotten that much better. I was able to hit my target within milliseconds of spotting it, and I had yet to miss. I turned, and took out a squirrel. I crept over to my kill, my tread light as to not scare any other game. I stuffed my kill into my game bag. I would have to bring this to Gale and Hazelle later…

Gale. I hadn't spoken to him since before the Victory Tour. He was on the platform, when we got back, but we hadn't spoken, hadn't even made eye contact. I would have to seek him out tomorrow. He'd be in the woods then. We'd talk and catch up tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 4

I ducked under the fence, and walked into the canopy of leaves. Outside of the fences of District Twelve, I normally thought, alone, away from everyone, everything. Away from the advice, sad and wary stares, or good intentions that characterize the time I spend with Haymitch, my mother, Prim, and occasionally Peeta. They all have good intentions, but I don't want that. I go to the forest to be free. But not today, today I have another reason. I have to talk to Gale.

Gale and I hadn't spoken. He was still down below the earth; working in the mines last night when I brought over the squirrels for his family, and that wasn't odd. I vaguely remembered miner's hours from when my father was still alive, even though it was painful to go into those memories. Their hours are very early mornings into late afternoons and early evenings. Their only day off when the mines were closed was Sunday, a long standing tradition going so far back that we didn't even remember why that was the day chosen anymore.

Gale would be in the woods on Sundays, hunting. I knew this not only because this was our designated day for hunting from before the Tour, but after the Games. I knew this because Gale needed meat for his family, not only to eat but to trade with, and Sunday was the only day he could get it himself. Before everything, we hunted whenever we could, be it before school in the wee morning hours, in the afternoon sun, or in whatever free time we had.

I grabbed my quiver of arrows and my bow from their designated places, and strode into the clearing where we had spent the morning of the reaping, half-expecting to see him there, but he wasn't. The clearing was obviously different, covered in a blanket of snow. Although it had just snowed last night, leaving a fresh new blanket of snow in its wake, animals had already left tracks. I leaned down, recognizing squirrel and rabbit tracks. The rabbit's looked promising; its tracks were relatively fresh in the packed snow. I took an arrow out of my quiver, and positioned it on the bow's string. I moved swiftly though the trees, trying to move alongside the rabbit's tracks as silently as possible. This is what felt natural to me. This is what I excelled in, hunting in the woods, finding game for my family. Even if this time it was for the Hawthornes, the other part of Gale and I's blended family unit.

I tracked the rabbit farther and farther into the woods. I knew that I should be looking for Gale, but I didn't expect him to be anywhere near the edge of the woods. He'd be checking and setting up snares, and attempting to hunt smaller game. And, I hoped that if I brought him a rabbit, it could be used as some sort of peace offering, as Gale wasn't one who hid his feelings, at all, under any circumstance. I just knew something was wrong. Gale wouldn't care if there was President Snow himself standing on that train station platform with a dozen peacekeepers, if he was happy with me and he missed me he would've embraced me after my family had.

Suddenly, the rabbit tracks stopped. There was a drop or two of blood on the white ground. Next to the crimson blood was a footprint in the snow. To be more specific, a distinctly male imprint of a boot, with slight traces of coal dust in the crevices. Gale was never as good at making clean kills. I lowered my bow so that it was pointing at the ground. So much for that peace offering, Gale had gotten to it first himself. I looked at Gale's footprints. They went north, and into a thick batch of trees. Looks like I'm tracking Gale now. I chuckled inside my head, because this was too much like the Hunger Games, tracking a teenage boy dealing with much bigger problems than he should have to.

I moved through the crop of trees, trying to be as silent as the wind. I followed the footprints, the coal in the crevices getting less and less dense as they went. I snapped a twig, silently cursing myself. I had to focus. What lay beyond the trees came into my line of sight. And in the little break between this crop of trees and the next was Gale.

I leaned on a tree trunk, letting the course bark dig into my back and fresh snowflakes that were now falling lightly from the sky land in my braid and on my face. Gale was sitting on a rock, more like a boulder. He ran his knife up and down the rabbit's fur, skinning it. Because the rabbit's fur was white at this time of year, he could probably trade it for something good. He stuck the skinned rabbit in his game bag, and I decided to make my presence known. I emerged from the trees, snapping a few twigs on purpose to alert him to my presence. His head snapped up, and there was a mixture of emotion evident in his eyes: betrayal, frustration, and was that a hint of anger?

"Hey Gale." I said, moving towards him, keeping my bow loaded as a force of habit.

"Hey Catnip." He mumbles, his eyes flashing, "Or should I begin calling you Mrs. Mellark? Just as practice, for now? The real thing can't be far off; you and Lover Boy can't keep your hands or mouths off each other."

I reeled back as though I had been hit. I had been on the receiving end of many of Gale's, but they weren't against me. I had merely been the sounding board, occasionally grunting or nodding until his anger had faded. The rants were mostly about the Capitol, their wealth and our abject poverty. But, this argument, this was uncharted territory for Gale and me.

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm going to be Mrs. Mellark, maybe something hyphenated will work better." I attempted to joke; sometimes Gale's argument ceased and he gave in to humor and laughs, dropping the subject.

"That's not the point!" He yelled, making some of the birds in the surrounding trees take flight, "You hang off his every word, simpering and then you coo back replies like a romantic idiot. That's not the Katniss I sent to those evil bastards. You've changed Katniss Everdeen, changed into a fool."

"Of course I changed Gale!" I screamed, seething with anger, "Of course I changed! I watched twenty two children kill each other in an arena! I've had to relive it after the games, and on the Victory Tour, not to mention every damn night! Rue was my friend! She was like Prim, reminded me of her! We were all children! Victors have to grow up fast, Gale."

"That doesn't change anything Katniss, not one thing. What happened to not having children? Remember, Katniss, you always said you never would? Marriage typically leads to children Katniss, and the way you and Lover Boy have been publically displaying your love, that's inevitable. You're exactly like them now Katniss, you should just move to the Capitol permanently. You belong there now, selfish, rich, obsessed with your appearance. You're just like them!"

"I'm not doing it for myself! I'm not doing it for Peeta; I'm doing it for you! Do you want Prim to get reaped next year, because I sure as Hell don't! Or do you want Rory in that Quarter Quell, my "cousin"? We can't volunteer for them anymore, Gale! All I can do except for mentor them to their deaths is this!"

"'This' Katniss, what is 'this?' All I've been witnessing after you won those Games is you and Peeta being in love. You're not even Katniss anymore! You're just some Capitol drone!"

"I'm marrying Peeta." I said, lowering my voice to a little below the volume of my normal speaking voice, "If we don't get married, there will be trouble. There'll be consequences Gale, and not only for Peeta and I, for everyone. This is the way it has to be."

"Where does that leave you and us then, huh?" Gale said, his voice seeping with anger, "You, a little housewife tucked away in District Twelve, happily married to your very much in love District partner who you won with, at the President's beck and call? Or, better yet, his little political toy, ready to catch a train to the Capitol every year to mentor tributes and take photos with him?"

I seethed in anger. Why was Gale doing this? He knew me too well, knew which points to discuss and how, with such accuracy that every sentence was like a jab in the stomach with a dull knife.

"And, more importantly, where does that leave us? You newlyweds will have to be seen all over television basically forever. At future reapings will we just be seen as your cousin? Katniss, everyone already believes that lie." Gale huffed.

"Gale, all I want from you is for you to be my friend." I replied softly, talking a tentative step towards him.

"Katniss, I can't be your friend when you're being _this_ Katniss. She's the fake, brainless clone that came back from the Capitol." Gale said.

I watched, quietly, as he quickly picked up his game bag, filled about three fourths of the way, and strode back through the trees, from which I previously tracked him through. I sunk to the ground, wrapping my arms around my knees. How did this happen to Gale and me? One minute, we were friends, and the next moment, when I volunteered for my sister, everything changed. In that moment, either I was going to die in the arena, or return victorious. I returned, but Peeta returned with me. And, I was understandably different than I was before. Gale hated who I had to become in that arena. I now had the entire world on my shoulders, literally. The peace of the nation, and everything staying the way it is now rested on how I acted around Peeta.

I then stood up, wanting to be away from the scene of the argument. The air just felt too permeated with leftover anger and frustration, and I felt like I was going to cry out of anger. I stood up from my crouched position, jogging back past the trees, past the blood drops, running both with and against Gale's footprints in the snow. New snowflakes were falling softly around me, starting to make the rabbit's tracks less deep. Soon, they wouldn't be there at all.

I replaced my bow and arrow in their holes, knowing I would probably come back sometime later, to check the snares for Gale and his family. It was my responsibility, they depended on me to. I couldn't just stop doing it for them; they were my family too, now. I climbed back into District Twelve, putting on the Capitol's Katniss: perfect Victor and fiancée. I was heading towards my old home, my old life that was now an abandoned shell to put her clothes on, the fancy materials in vibrant shades come via train all the way from the Capitol. After changing, I walked out of the home that was no longer mine, down the streets in which I no longer belonged, towards the main part of the town, saddened by the thought of my falling out with Gale. The odds weren't in my favor today.


	5. Chapter 5

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 5

My mind was still reeling as I walked down dirty, coal covered streets and alleys of the Seam. How could Gale call me those things? I'm not a Capitol clone! The people in the Capitol are selfish. They enjoy the Games. They love watching people die in an arena for their entertainment. But, Gale doesn't understand. I could never be like those people. I can never be like those people because I experienced that. Only had a one out of twenty four chance to make it out of the arena. Even though two of us came out, I still was in that position. Those children that will be going into the arena in only a few months, they have lives. They are people, with families. I could never enjoy that, especially now that I am a mentor.

Gale didn't understand that I had to put on an act. Being a Victor and mentor was just one big show, a play to be performed on an everyday basis. You had to play to the audience, and put on masks as needed. I had to play it up for Snow, the Capital people, and the people from the Districts. I had to be happy, in love with Peeta, and a perfect Victor. Peeta wasn't hard to get along with, but the man could get along with anybody. I couldn't even be myself in front of my mother or Prim. I had been so strong for them for so long, that I didn't want them to see how broken up I was about the Games.

I wished I had never won, because when you win it doesn't end. The Hunger Games just keeps going on and on. But, instead of playing the Game with spears, weapons, the Cornucopia, tributes, and parachutes, you play with lies, deceit, betrayal, rumors, and sacrifices. Sacrificing your life to keep the Capitol happy is a full time job, literally. We don't go to school; we don't have jobs in our district. We just have to be the Capitol's dolls: dressing up in their clothes, conforming to their fashion, going where they pleased. And just generally acting like a happy-go-lucky Victor.

I passed the last few houses on the outskirts of the Seam. I walked with my eyes downcast, and the hood on my new from-the-Capitol windbreaker pulled up around my face. It was not snowing hard, but the feeling of snow melting on my face just wasn't one that appealed to me in that moment. It was too cold, and too irritating. Gale had already grated on my nerves, and I felt like somehow it was one o'clock in the morning in the middle of a now-frequent sleepless night, instead of the actual time of nine in the morning. All I wanted to do was crawl under my covers and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Suddenly, I saw feet, a lot of feet. Not looking up, I suddenly bumped into a man that looked at me with a solemn and knowing expression. What's going on? All the people were in a rough semi-circle formation, all facing in one direction. I moved through the crowd, glancing at a few of the faces as I went. Some were from the Seam, some were from the town, but all wore the same expression: sad and afraid. These expressions I had only seen after a mining accident, or at the reaping. If it was a mining accident, they all wouldn't be in town, they'd be at a mine entrance, and it wasn't reaping day. Suddenly and unexplainably, my heart dropped into my stomach. It had only happened twice before: when my father had died and Prim's name was called at the reaping.

I pushed through the crowd, until I was at the very edge, only an older man in front of me. I pulled my hood closer to my face, not wanting to be noticed or recognized. I heard a crack and then a moan, and immediately turned towards the noise, my senses locking in on what my instincts considered important. And that's when I saw him.

I gasped subconsciously. Gale's hands were bound in front of him to a post. On the side of the post facing me, the rabbit fur was tacked up with a nail. On the side of the circle farthest away from me, Gale's game bag was overflowing with game that he had caught in the woods earlier that day. At first, I didn't understand what was happening. A man was wearing the Head Peacekeeper uniform. It wasn't Cray. His mouth was moving, but I couldn't focus on what he was saying. My eyes had just found the whip.

The whip lay limp in his hand, but already had quite a few specks of blood on it, Gale's blood. Gale's shirt was ripped down the middle. His back was marred with lash marks, and all I could focus on was the blood. There was so much blood. Gale's face was contorted with pain, but he wasn't crying out. His eyes were shut, but he wasn't crying. Gale was strong. As if by a force that wasn't my own, maybe fate or my instinct to protect him, my feet moved towards the middle of the circle, pushing past the man. Gale was still my friend, my family, no matter what he thought of me. And I protected those I love, no matter what the cost.

I stumbled forward quickly and swiftly, yet clumsily. The man with the whip was saying something to the surrounding crowd, not noticing that I had stepped out of line and into the center. I stumbled towards Gale, who let out a quiet, low grunt. The grunt was pregnant with unspoken pain. I shushed him, and placed a comforting hand on his cheek.

"I'm going to help you Gale." I whispered as quietly as I possibly could, so quietly it seemed like I had only mouthed the words to sooth myself.

I brushed my thumb up against his cheek in what I hoped to be a comforting motion. It always seemed to help Prim after she woke up screaming after a nightmare about the reapings or my father's death in the mines. I hoped it was as comforting to Gale as it was to Prim. I crawled over to his restraints on his wrists, seeing if I could loosen them, if only slightly. They seemed to be tied tightly, and if I could just loosen them, I could alleviate his pain, if only a little. My ears picked up on the rustling of fabric, and I turned, glancing behind me. The peacekeeper with the whip was behind me, coming toward us. So, I did the only thing I could think of doing, the thing they I would only do for a few people in all of Panem: I threw myself onto Gale's body, protecting him from the lashes.

I wrapped my hands around his stomach, my stomach against Gale's lashes, hugging him from behind. Blood from the wounds was seeping into the lining of my windbreaker, but at that moment I couldn't care less. I heard the snap of the whip as it was raised. I leaned my cheek against Gale's shoulder, steeling myself against the inevitable pain and silently willing him not to move or protest. The whip came down across my back before the peacekeeper could notice my presence. The crowd started murmuring and gasping, but it was faint to me. The pain felt like a lightning bolt had just ripped my back open. It was like the burn on my leg during my games was multiplied twenty fold in a straight line. Tears stung the back of my eyes. The whip cracked again, and a searing pain what must've been parallel to the other gash appeared. I gasped, and felt the peacekeeper's gaze upon me.

"Who do we have here?" He sneered, pausing for a moment, "Let's see, shall we folks?"

He leaned down, and ripped off the hood of my windbreaker, releasing my braid. I didn't turn my face. I knew the pain would be evident there, and the children in the crowd didn't need to see that. They already saw my pain in the games, and it was seen in multiple children's dying faces every year.

"Is she his lover, his sister, or his wife, maybe? It's so hard to tell, you people all look alike." Our apparently new head peacekeeper said, "Ah, no matter, she interfered with his punishment, so…ten additional lashes are appropriate. Cut the boy down, tie her up."

A peacekeeper who I vaguely recognized took out a pocketknife from a pocket in his white uniform, while another reached out, grabbing my shoulders and forcibly removing me from Gale's back, not that me grip was that strong anymore. My fingers were shaking so badly because of the pain. I kneeled on the ground, in the snow, and I braced my hands on the ground. The coolness of the snow felt soothing, taking away the pain of my back if only for a moment, and braced myself for the pain that was to come. Gale was lowered to the ground, his back to the snow, and as they moved him aside so that I could be tied up, his blood stained the snow red, leaving awful smudge marks that made me fill with dread.

The peacekeeper with the knife grabbed my hands roughly, and began tying them up. The rough rope, procured from another pocket, chaffed at my wrists, but my head was swiveling towards the crowd. To my right, the crowd was parting and the crowd' murmurs were going from faint to a dull roar, at least in this situation. In reality, it went from so quiet you could hear a pin drop, to quiet whispering. I saw a pair of worn down leather dress shoes, followed by a pair of sneakers caked with flour and little bits of dough.

"What the hell is going on here?" Haymitch thundered, taking in the scene.

The crowd went silent and I lifted my head slowly from the resting place that it had found on the wooden post. Haymitch and the head peacekeeper were staring each other down. Peeta was behind him, taking in the scene and fuming silently, his entire face slowly turning a startling pink color. The head peacekeeper paled considerably, and a bead of sweat appeared on his brow. Haymitch is the most recognizable of the three of us, not because he is highly publicized or sought after by the Capitol press, but because he has been around the longest. Although he wasn't the most popular Victor, Peeta and I were still relatively unrecognizable, especially when we were apart in our home district, working separately like the Hunger Games never happened to us, like we would've before.

"I ask again, what is going on here?" Haymitch thundered, his grey Seam eyes flashing.

Haymitch looked scary, and it was easy to see when he wasn't drunk or passed out how he won the Games. When he wanted to, Haymitch could be scary, and he was prone to being cunning and using schemes. Even though this skill set save Peeta and I's lives, you never know what to expect with him. He wasn't young anymore, but he could still intimidate pretty much anyone short of President Snow.

"Why is my Victor tied to a post, scars marring her back?" He thundered, walking towards Gale and I in the center of the circle.

"She interrupted the punishment of a hunter, hunting illegally outside of the District's boarders, and that, therefore constitutes ten lashes." The head peacekeeper said somewhat arrogantly.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I know that my first call is going to be to the President himself when I get home."Haymitch said in a threatening growl, poking the man's chest with his finger.

"My name is Head Peacekeeper Thread, Mr. Abernathy," The head peacekeeper said, "And this District is under my rule. It would be good for you to remember that."

He made a hand gesture that seemed like he was dismissing us, and strode away from us with a sneer, the crowd parting and huddling back into their spots in his wake. Peeta moved to my side immediately, with Haymitch followed close behind. I could still feel the curious eyes of the onlookers on my back, even when he lowered himself down onto his knees into the snow, wincing as he lowered himself onto his prosthetic leg.

"Are you okay, Katniss?"Peeta says, brushing his hand against my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine; we've had worse, right?" I said, although it came out strained.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay? I'm sorry this happened to you; I should've been there to help or come sooner. I'm so, so, sorry."Peeta said, kissing my forehead.

"You couldn't have done anything, Peeta. And, you were working at the bakery, and that makes you happy. We're not attached at the hip." I said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear.

"You okay, sweetheart?"Haymitch said, coming over with a knife I had seen him brandish at me numerous times when I disturbed him from a less than restful slumber.

"Yeah, Haymitch, I'm fine." I said, lowering my voice, "What's the plan?"

"Sweetheart, listen to me, we're going to take you and Gale to your mother, and she'll fix you up. Then, Hazelle is going to pick up the kids from school, and they'll stay with you until further notice. We'll go on normally, but cautiously." Haymitch whispered in my ear, his lips barely moving for fear of eavesdroppers.

Peeta and Haymitch conferred quickly with one another, so quickly that no one, not even me, overheard. Peeta moved back to his father's store, and Haymitch gestured to some men, who emerged from the crowd, some looking like they had just returned from the mines. Peeta came back from the bakery with his father and Rye, a board with a sheet on it held between them, and both of their faces grim. Peeta's was still filled with rage, but it looked as if he had cooled down a little in the small time it had taken him to collect the items and his father and brother. Haymitch came over with the men, and handed Peeta the knife before moving over to Gale, and rolling him onto the makeshift stretcher with the help of the other men. They each took a side of the stretcher with Gale's now unconscious body laid stomach-down, as to not aggravate his injuries. They lifted the stretcher with care, so they wouldn't jostle him, and took a step forward.

"Are you going to be okay with her, Peeta?" Haymitch said, looking over his shoulder at the Mellarks and me.

Peeta nodded at him, and Haymitch, appeased and assured, motioned for the men to continue to walk. Peeta handed the knife to his father, silently asking for him to cut my restraints. Peeta wrapped his arms around my waist, careful about not even brushing my wounds, and his father cut the rope that held me upright. I slouched into Peeta's chest, and gave his father a grateful smile. He smiled back, knelt down, and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Family sticks together." Mr. Mellark whispered in my ear.

I smiled at the thought that this kind man would now be a part of my family, even though it was forced. I was shifted out of Peeta's arms and into Mr. Mellark's so that Rye could help Peeta back onto his feet.

"I'll have Peeta bring you over some cheese buns for you and some cookies for the children. They'll enjoy them, and the cheese buns will help you recover. Give your mother my best." Mr. Mellark said kindly.

"Will do Mr. Mellark." I said while being passed into Rye's arms, and being lifted into Peeta's arms like a light ragdoll.

Peeta thanked his father and brother, and I did the same. Peeta then turned and walked out of the square as that crowd had thinned considerably to a few bystanders and passerby. I leaned my head on his shoulder as he walked, and closed my eyes. The rhythm of his uneven steps calmed me. We passed the gates into Victor's Village in the same manner, my head on his shoulder. My house was chaos: the miners who helped carry Gale were leaving, my mother was ordering Prim, her young assistant, to collect snow, and I was set on a chaise lounge in our sitting room while my mother checked Gale, the more serious out of the two of us. Peeta sat beside me, blood, my blood, staining his perfect white tee shirt. My house was in chaos, until the phone rang.


	6. Chapter 6

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 6

Brrring, Briiiingg, Brinnng. There were only a few possibilities of who could be calling me, and all of them were so unlikely at a time like this it baffled me. Madge called from her father's phone in his office occasionally, but that was more for the Mayor's work purposes, so she normally just came over, as our houses were a little less than a mile apart. Peeta normally called out of politeness, to see if we were home and up to visitors before stopping over, even though he only lived two doors down. And considering that Peeta was sitting by my feet, staring at the phone like it had come from another planet; the idea that he could be calling me from his house was one I couldn't even entertain. Haymitch was fibbing when he said that he could call the president, he didn't have a phone in his house after ripping it off the wall in a drunken rage before we even knew each other. That left Effie, Cinna, or someone else from the Capitol.

Haymitch, the nearest to the phone, snapped out of his trance and snatched the phone off of the receiver. He held it up to his ear, and grumbled a stiff greeting. His eyes widened slightly, but only so slightly that only those who spent a considerable amount of time around him would notice. Unfortunately, Peeta and I were among those lucky few. Peeta grabbed my hand and squeezed it, either out of his nervous or to comfort me, at this point I couldn't tell.

"Yeah, she's here." Haymitch said, more polite than before or than I had ever heard him, "Sweetheart, it's for you."

I nodded as Peeta swept me off of my seat on the lounge and set me on a stool near the kitchen counter, which Haymitch had moved to next to the phone while I was in transit. Peeta stood behind me, in case I fell. Haymitch handed me the phone, his face looking grim.

"Hello, this is Katniss Everdeen, this is?" I said, employing the phone manners Effie had taught me shortly after we had moved into Victor's Village. Peeta was always better than me at that, too.

"Good afternoon, Miss. Everdeen." Drawled a voice I was starting to know all too well. It was President Snow.

"H-hello President Snow, to what do I owe this honor?" I said, attempting to be respectful. If I wasn't, it probably would've merited drastic measures from President Snow.

"You did a very commendable job convincing everyone in the districts of the love behind your actions in the games." President Snow said pleasantly enough, but with a hint of malice in his voice.

"Thank you, President Snow." I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice, as Peeta leaned closer into the phone and Haymitch inched towards us.

"But, you did not do a good enough job of convincing me." President Snow concluded.

My heart dropped into my stomach. We had returned from our Victory Tour, Peeta and I, and I thought this was all behind us. That even though we had to pretend to love each other for the rest of our lives, maybe we could just stay engaged. Go with the fact that we were too young, or too busy mentoring, even though that was a sickening thought. And what would this mean for our district? Would there be "accidental" mine explosions, food shortages due to "train derailments" or "train delays"? This district was no longer one I was just born into or apart of, it was one I represented and in a way had to protect, just as I had to protect Prim. I took a deep breath, and felt Peeta put his hand on my shoulder in reassurance.

"And I just received a call from my new Head Peacekeeper Cray that I found to be quite interesting." President Snow said quiet conversationally, "He is not one to be messed with, Miss. Everdeen, especially not by one on such thin ice."

"I'll be sure not to next time." I said, sounding confident even though my hand had started to shake.

"You need to learn your place, Miss. Everdeen." He said frankly, and I heard the phone click, signifying the end of the call.

I took a deep breath and put the phone back on its cradle. Prim and my mother were looking at me inquisitively, but were continuing applying ice and healing creams to Gale's back. Haymitch looked like he wanted to speak, but stayed silent and kept his eyes on mine, reading them. Apparently not seeing what he liked, he took a flask out of his jacket and took a drink, plopping down in an armchair. Peeta moved me back to the lounge, and put a reassuring hand on my bicep, sitting on the rug next to my head.

"Are you alright?" He whispered in my ear while rubbing circles on my arm.

"Yes, I'll be fine, really." I said, reassuring him, knowing he was talking about the phone call and the lashes.

My mother moved over to us after finishing with Gale, muttering to herself. Even though my mother wasn't speaking directly to me, I could pick up what she was saying. She was running through the herb and plants book that was passed down through her merchant family for generations, and that she had taken with her when she left to marry my father. She had read the herb book so many times and made certain edits with my father that she had it memorized perfectly. She muttered to herself when she healed, always did, even when my father was alive, going through the pages, attempting to find the proper cure. The muttering and healing was a part of our old lives that had somehow made it through her damaged psyche to our current lives.

Haymitch got up, and began to pace from one room to the other, his boots making his footfalls heavy. I listened to them fade as he paced through the rooms, not at a running pace, just at a fast walk, like he was thinking of something important. Which, in this situation, he should be.

"I'm going to cut off your windbreaker, okay Katniss? We can always have Cinna send us another." Prim said, and not a moment later I felt the material of my windbreaker lifting off my shoulders.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from behind me that I recognized as Peeta's as Prim removed my now tattered windbreaker and shirt. Peeta had always been a little protective of me, especially during the games and on the Victory Tour, even if we weren't speaking. I felt my mother's hands on my back, rubbing what was probably healing ointment or ice, or a combination of the two on my back.

Suddenly, there was a frantic knock on the door breaking through the calm chaos that had been created, with Peeta next to me, Gale moaning on the table in pain, Haymitch pacing past the door, and my mother and Prim running between the two of us. Haymitch crossed to open the door, revealing a cold and frantic Hazelle, wrapped in a brown shawl.

"Where's Gale?" She said frantically, eyes roving around the entranceway of our house, or what she could see from her vantage point in the doorway. "I heard about what happened in the town square. Oh, if he is with the undertaker…"

"Mrs. Hawthorne, it's alright." Haymitch said loudly over her frantic almost-sobs while ushering her into my house.

"What?" She replied, stopping her in her tracks and stopping her rant.

"I said he's safe. A little banged up, but he'll be alright eventually." Haymitch said, gesturing to Gale on the table.

"Oh thank the heavens! When Mr. Mellark came and told me…I was doing laundry…"

"Mr. Mellark came to see you?" Peeta said, standing up suddenly.

"Your father, yes he did. Told me that my boy was hurt…that he was being taken to the Everdeen's house." Hazelle said, frantically, her eyes still darting around looking for Gale.

Hazelle was pointed in the direction of Gale, who she dashed over to and started running her hand through his hair. Peeta sat back down near my feet, giving my mother and sister more room to work with than he had previously.

"Hazelle, where are the kids?" I said suddenly, realizing that if Prim was home, Rory, Vic, and definitely Posy were all home as well.

"They're with our neighbors, dear." Hazelle said absentmindedly, still stroking her son's hair, seemingly reveling in the fact that he was relatively unscathed.

I nodded, appeased. Hazelle, while this was affecting her greatly, was not my mother. She would not focus on only Gale's suffering, she would remember her other children and go to them, leaving Gale in Prim and my mother's capable care. My mother started to mop up access blood on my back, and applying more ointment. I hissed slightly at the stinging, but it was much less painful than getting the wounds in the first place or anything in my Games. Peeta took my hand, rubbing comforting circles on the outside of my hand. I tried to pull away, but he held fast. My mother moved away from us, done with her task. Suddenly feeling sleepy, I fell asleep with Peeta's hand in mine and Prim chattering happily to Haymitch in the background.


	7. Chapter 7

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 7

Last time:

_My mother started to mop up access blood on my back, and applying more ointment. I hissed slightly at the stinging, but it was much less painful than getting the wounds in the first place or anything in my Games. Peeta took my hand, rubbing comforting circles on the outside of my hand. I tried to pull away, but he held fast_. _My mother moved away from us, done with her task. Suddenly feeling sleepy, I fell asleep with Peeta's hand in mine and Prim chattering happily to Haymitch in the background._

I drifted out of sleep several times. My eyes blinked open, it was dark and Peeta's hand was still in mine. They closed. My eyes blinked open, it was dawn and Peeta's hand was no longer in mine. My hand felt empty without his. My eyes drifted closed. My eyes opened, Prim was bustling around the kitchen, making tea. She notices I am awake, and comes over to me, and strokes my hair and whispers nonsense words to me. My eyes close.

I finally wake up for good midmorning. Prim has gone to school, even though I would've rather had her stay home with me. I fear that her association with me will get her into trouble. But, her being there in school will bring her less trouble in the long run. The Capital doesn't like it when you miss school. They keep very accurate records of absences, and if you miss a significant amount of days without their expressed permission you are visited by a peacekeeper to "check on the child's wellbeing" and then are put into special extended classes. Of course, the Capital doesn't want you to miss too many days full of propaganda, or they may lose their hold on you. Likewise, Hazelle has gone home and Peeta has gone to the bakery. They all had agreed last night that Peeta would go to work that morning, and Hazelle would collect laundry and look after Hazelle. I had insisted that everything go on like it should. We don't want to attract any more attention from the peacekeepers, especially Thread, who is harsher and a different kind of evil than Cray ever was. But, no one was to go out alone, or even think of going close to the fence.

I scooted myself delicately over to the end table near the top of the lounge. Taking a sip of water, I read that my mother was at a birth in the Seam and that Haymitch and eventually Hazelle would be checking on us through the day. Births were normally either an all-day affair, my mother being there throughout a great majority of the labor, or she was just there for a short time to deliver the baby. I assumed this was the former. And because Haymitch was supposed to be babysitting us, it would probably be a while. Gale was still laid out on our dining room table, and his back looked like it had just been recently treated, so my mother had just left the house. Gale, even though my mother had seemingly just treated him, looked like he hadn't moved since he was put there yesterday and he had woken up in a half conscious stupor.

I shifted on the couch. Even though my back was wrapped and bandaged, it still hurt if I moved too much. But, the pain was nothing that I couldn't handle. After being in the Hunger Games, and nearly starving to death after my father's death, being whipped in the back was almost nothing. Plus, laying on the chaise lounge on my stomach in one position is only comfortable for so long. Using my arms to lift myself into a more upright position without disturbing my injury, I sat up looking around. Gale was still out cold, but still breathing, and that's a good thing. He looked like he was sleeping, but for all of the medical knowledge I know, he could be passed out. As long as he was asleep though, he wasn't in pain, I think. I sat up keeping my back rigid just like Effie taught me to sit while in the Capital, as to not irritate my back. Having nothing to do, I closed my eyes, and let myself drift off.

I woke up, hearing my back door open and close with a bang. Staggering footsteps walked through my kitchen. Haymitch came to check on us. I'm shocked. I sat up slowly, and watched as he checked that Gale was still breathing. He walked over to me, and spotted that I was awake.

"Good afternoon, sweetheart." Haymitch said in a normal speaking voice, even though Gale was sleeping. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Hey Haymitch, how's life going?" I replied, rubbing my eyes and angling myself the best I could so I could actually hold a discussion with him.

"Well, we got lucky. They managed to keep this out of the press. Spared them some embarrassment, but it was good for us, too. We got lucky." Haymitch said, only slurring his words a little.

We both knew that the consequences of my, and more minimally, Gale's actions would be much worse if the Capitol or President Snow felt as if my actions had been embarrassing. Haymitch sat down on the couch, taking out a flask and taking a sip. We sat there in silence for a few moments, until I heard Haymitch's soft drunken snores that characterized much of our Victory Tour. I got up, cautiously, tenderly, and strengthened up immediately, but only a small shot of pain rushed up my body. I moved to the kitchen, and started the kettle for some mint tea. As I opened the kitchen cabinet, I heard a soft moan.

"Gale, is that you?" I whispered crossing over to the dining room table and sitting in a chair gingerly.

"Katnip, is that you?" Gale muttered, his startling grey Seam eyes blinking open groggily.

"Yeah, Gale, it's me." I replied softly, giving him the option to return to sleep if he wanted to. He turned his head towards mine, and his eyes locked onto mine.

"Ouch, I feel like I've been hit by a mine cart." Gale muttered

"Yeah, well, a bull whip is pretty close in comparison, especially with how many you got." I replied, chuckling wryly.

"Katniss, why did you do it? You didn't have to. You shouldn't have. Especially after we just argued, you shouldn't have…" Gale said, his voice increasing in volume. I put my hand on his shoulder to quiet him.

"Gale, we became friends when our fathers died. We were struggling to survive together. You helped me feed my family, you helped us live. Our families are one family now, in my eyes. Hunger Games or no Hunger Games, argument or no argument, I would do anything for you." I said quietly. I didn't like to express my feelings, but that needed to be said.

"A Capital clone wouldn't say that. Guess you haven't changed so much after all." Gale said as the tea kettle whistled.

I moved over to the tea kettle, knowing that was the best apology I would get for his uncalled for comments. Gale and I were two branches off of the same tree. He wasn't good with words, and neither was I. Even after I won the Hunger Games, and after doing numerous interviews and speeches, speaking still wasn't my strong suit. Apologies also weren't a strong suit of Gale or I's. Gale or I had never apologized to each other, and for Gale to admit that he was wrong about anything was like pulling teeth.

"I haven't changed very much, but I've changed just enough." I muttered, fixing myself tea.


	8. Chapter 8

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 8

A week passed. The children went to school, or else the peacekeepers would come looking for them, and my mother went out for an emergency on one occasion. But even then, I had to practically make Peeta force Haymitch to go to the Seam with her. Peeta offered, but I felt like his beautiful merchant blonde looks and clean cut Victor appearance would just be too ostentatious in the dirt –filled Seam. Other than that, I had told everyone not to leave Victor's Village if they could help it, as I feared retaliation from the peacekeepers on behalf of their new head or the Capitol. Snow's subtle threat still hung over my head, and even though I couldn't figure out exactly what it meant, I still had a strong feeling that something would come to pass soon enough, and I would "learn my place".

So, for now, Peeta baked bread for his family's bakery in his own kitchen, and Mr. Mellark picked it up, and dropped off provisions for him. Haymitch bought his liquor after escorting Hazelle and the kids to school, and then took Hazelle back here for the duration of the day to visit with Gale. The Hawthornes slept in my house in the Victor's Village, even though Peeta offered up the extra rooms in his home, as he lived alone. I insisted they stay with us. Not only was I concerned with their safety and Gale's recovery, which was about a day or two slower than mine because his more severe injury, but I also liked their presence. It was like I was not a Victor, like my life was normal again.

I woke up on my stomach in my bed, in my own room. My first instinct, ingrained in me from days of hunting and the arena, was to flip over and check my surroundings, and make sure I was safe. Now, I had to fight that instinct or risk reopening the wound. The everyday routine with the Hawthornes here was so domestic, something normal families would do, and this was something that I had not experienced since my father died. I could hear Hazelle moving to wake up Rory and Vic. Mom and Prim were in my mother's bedroom, leaving Hazelle and Posy Prim's room to use, and the boys in the spare. I moved up to my room after two days; however my mother said that I could not move from that spot. Gale was still confined downstairs. I loved having them here, because it reminded me of the days that Gale and I were the heads of our family, and were pretty much one household, with one occupation, one income, and with resources shared between us.

I could hear my mother downstairs checking on Gale, and Prim and Hazelle starting breakfast. The boys thundered past my room, and even though the door was closed, I could tell that it was them, as they were complaining about normal things any boy there age would complain about: schoolwork, the cold, and their teacher. I lay back down, my chin touching my pillow, but my eyes still open. My mother would be in soon to check on my lash and probably change my dressings, and Prim or Hazelle would either come up with breakfast themselves or send one of the boys up before they went to school. A knock sounded on my door, right on schedule.

My mother bustled in, ointment and dressings in her hands. She sat down on the edge of my bed, lifting up my shirt slowly. This was something I knew my mother, and even Prim had experience with. I had seen them check out people's injuries, whether after the fact or while it was still gushing blood, on our old battered kitchen table. This was one of the only times I trusted my mother, so I stayed still and silent, even though the ointment had a cooling sting and while she redressed the lashes, and my mother didn't say a word either. Finally, lowering my shirt, she sighed.

"Well, Katniss, the wounds have scabbed over. It looks like you should be able to move about today." She said, opening her mouth to speak again. "Just don't do anything…try not to do anything too drastic or jarring, okay?"

I gave her a look that was between a glare and a scowl. Just because this was her area of expertise didn't mean that she could act like she cared, like she was still the mother Prim and I had lost years ago. Just because I had gotten hurt, and I had won the Hunger Games and everything had changed, did not give her the right to do a complete turn around and start acting like a mother again. My mother sighed, gathered up her supplies off of the bedside table, and walked over to the door. She put her hand on the doorknob, turned it, and then paused.

"Just-Just try to take care of yourself, Katniss." She said almost tenderly, then turned the doorknob and walked out.

I flipped over onto my back, the lashes no longer hurting or reopening. I laid there for a moment, not wanting to get up and join everyone else downstairs. Listening to them, I enjoyed it, but when I actually would emerge from my room, I knew there would be stares, and curious looks, and I wanted to stay up here, alone, at least until Peeta and Haymitch got here. That would give them some other Victors to give their pitying looks to. They only want the best for us, especially because everyone knew what became of Haymitch after his games. They knew that Haymitch was the old drunk, that it was not because he just liked alcohol, but because of the Games, and what he probably went through after. Hell, Peeta and I didn't even know what his experiences were like, and we spent weeks with him, more than probably anyone since his victory. There was a brisk knock at the door that was so feminine and light that it could only be Prim.

"Come on in, Little Duck." I said, in a normal speaking voice. Prim knew she didn't have to knock anyway, that she was welcome in anytime for any reason.

"Good morning Katniss! I heard your back is almost healed." Prim said while setting down my breakfast that she had carried in on a tray and then sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Yeah, maybe I can go downstairs today or something." I said, lifting the cover off of my tray. Really, it was just another plate, but it served to keep my oatmeal and toast with homemade jams, jams that I had made just after my Games, warm for the trip up the stairs.

"That's the spirit Katniss! I just wish that I could stay home with you. Today's lesson seems boring." Prim said, pouting a little at the end hoping to get out of school.

"You know that you have to go, Prim." I said, quietly, looking at my clock. "It's almost time for you to go. Run along, Prim, and have a good day, or try to at least."

"Alright Katniss, I'll try. And you try not to strain yourself." Prim said, hopping up from her perch on the edge of my bed and quickly leaving the room, giggling, getting the upper hand before I tried to argue with her.

I stuffed some oatmeal in my mouth, almost spitting it back out when it was too hot on my tongue. What a way to start the day, almost burning my tongue off in the process of eating what I earned in the Hunger Games. With that thought, I dropped my spoon in the bowl with the oatmeal and set it aside picking up my toast as I decided to let my oatmeal cool. After devouring my breakfast, including the scalding oatmeal, I headed downstairs, where Hazelle was working on her mending. Posy was playing with a ragdoll quietly at her feet. My mother had left to go to her bedroom, as she did on most mornings, and Gale was sitting quietly on the couch, drinking tea and eating toast. I walked up to Gale, as stealthly as I ever was in the woods, and stole a bit of his toast and slid down on the seat next to him.

"Hey, you already had your own toast, this is mine. Lay off or get your own." Gale said, whining and taking another bite of his toast.

"Gale, have you ever heard of sharing?" I said teasingly, after chewing and swallowing my chunk of bread.

"Yeah Gale, sharing is very 'portant, right Mama? It's nice, and thats how you show others you're nice!" Posy said from her spot on the floor.

Gale and I stifled our laughs when Hazelle looked up from her sewing and told Posy that, yes, sharing was very important and nice, and that Gale was not being a very good man by not sharing with his "very good friend Katniss". In this respect, Hazelle reminded me of Effie: or of Effie's very distant cousin. Even though they weren't the wealthiest people, she wanted her children to at least have good values and morals. Even though Gale was gruff and stoic, he had a good head on his shoulders and can pull out the manners if he really wants to. We chuckle more at Posy and Hazelle's exchange, and then go back to sitting in silence. Until, ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door.

I got up, being the only one unoccupied. I opened the door, and grabbed a newspaper wrapped package from my doorstep. Not wanting Posy, Hazelle, or Gale to be exposed to a package that had unknown contents and that seemed anonymous, I stayed in the foyer and tore open the edges of the paper slowly. Immediately, a smell that I was unfortunately familiar with hit me: roses with a faint undertone of blood. Tearing open the package further, I was met with a little plastic container with no label. Setting that aside, I picked up the note on cardstock, and ran my hand across the lettering, reading it over and over, trying to decipher what it meant : _Apply generously._ _Can't have our favorite mentor scarred can we?_

"Katniss, who's at the door sweetie?" Hazelle asked from the living room.

"Uh…it was Haymitch, Hazelle. He was drunk out of his mind, thought this house was his. I pointed him in the right direction." I said after a moment of contemplation. I couldn't risk their safety any more than I already had by telling them the truth about the package.

"Oh, that man! He needs to stop drinking in the middle of the day, and the heavy stuff at that! But then again, all your houses do look the same." Hazelle replied.

"You're right, on both counts." I replied. Haymitch needed to lay off a little, especially with Snow getting as close as he is. Posy could have just as easily opened the door and retrieved the package.

I moved into the living room, stashing it in a pocket of my sleep pants, even though I knew I would have to burn them later and have Cinna send me a new pair because of the smell of chemically altered roses. I resolved that I would have to show my mother the ointment later and swear her to secrecy, as there was no possible way, with the positioning of my lashes, that I could apply the ointment myself.

The rest of the day continued in the same monotony that was probably boring and ordinary to others, including Gale even though he had started working at the mines and had worked long hours, but was strange and out of the ordinary for me. Hazelle sewed and washed things in the utility sink in our mud room while Posy played on the floor of the living room. Gale and I chatted away, while I looked through the designs Cinna had sent me last week that were supposed to be "mine". Peeta and Haymitch hadn't come over by the afternoon, but that wasn't abnormal. They normally just wandered in and out throughout the day anyway, and when Haymitch was drunk off his ass and Peeta was baking, they would be over later. My mother reentered the land of the living shortly before the kids got home from school. Posy and Prim played dolls in the afternoon after the kids got home, while the boys kicked around a ball outside.

In our domestic bliss, our television switched on for unannounced mandatory viewing. The screen went fuzzy, like it always would when it was for a live feed from the Hunger Games or the Capitol. Most of the year, when the Games weren't on, was mostly reruns of past victories in the games, the Victory tour, or Capitol propaganda. After a minute or two of static, a sickly pink screen came on with the works: _Please stand by for a special message from the Capitol! _ Repeated over and over by a high pitched female voice with a Capitol accent. My mother and Hazelle walked over to the television, sitting on the couch opposite of Gale and I. Gale immediately sat up, and my attention snapped to the television when the face that I had been dreading to see all afternoon was projected for all of Panem to see. President Snow, in a purple suit with a white rose in his lapel, walked up to the podium, with a little boy in a matching suit behind him, carrying a mother of pearl box, engraved with the symbol of Panem, with a gold clasp. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.

"Greetings from the Capitol! Citizens of Panem, the time has come for the seventy fifth annual Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell! The Hunger Games, at its inception, was created to punish and remind the citizens of the Dark Days. To remind the districts that during the war citizens of the Capitol were displaced from their home and their families, the tributes will blind in the arena."

**Author's note: Hey guys, do you like SYOTs? Then go enter my sister's SYOT, that I edit, Dying in the Desert by hungergamesloverswimmer. And thank you to my editor and other sister finnicklover. Thanks for reading, I'll update ASAP.**


	9. Chapter 9

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 9

The papers with Cinna's beautiful Capitolite designs tumbled to the ground, scattering everywhere and becoming out of order as I moved to stand up out of instinct, sensing the danger and the tension in the room that was rolling off of everyone in waves. My eyes immediately snapped to my hands that were resting in my lap. My fingers had curled into my palm, with my nails pressing into the skin of my palm. That was good, however. The pain kept me grounded. I realized I would have to mentor children, and essentially guide them to slaughter in the Hunger Games, like Peeta and I were by a drunken Haymitch. We were now not the sacrificial lambs, but the shepherds. It turns out that being a survivor was no less painful than being the victim, because you are a victim, just a different kind.

"They're-They're not going to blind children, are they?" Hazelle said with her hands trembling in her lap, hand reaching out for Gale's.

"I'm not sure. This-this is…" I said, with my hands still clenched.

I suddenly felt guilty. I didn't know where the guilt stemmed from, but I felt guilty that I would lead a child into this, a child who was possibly related to me, a child who was possibly playing in my house right now. Somehow, at this moment, winning, and living to be here, to mentor these children whose silhouettes were now vaguely dancing in my head, were my fault, my responsibility, and my burden to bear. One boy and one girl, now just children, that in a matter of weeks would most likely be slaughtered inhumanely, like dangerous animals. Feeling this way, I couldn't be with these people, my family, who would never know what I had been through. Who would never know what I felt. Just being in their presence tainted them somehow. So, I stood up, my eyes darting between them, and swiftly moved across the living room, stepping on the designs, crumbling them and hearing them crunch under my feet as I went, not that I cared at that moment. I felt like if Cinna knew what had happened and why they were crumbled, he would understand.

I opened the door, racing outside through the square of Victor's Village and into the backyard of what could be a future victor's home, built at the same time as mine, the same time as Peeta's, the same time as Haymitch's, and the same time as the house that was the first Victor's that was now locked, bolted, cleaned, and sterilized as if they were never there in the first place. I sat on the stoop, and curled into a ball. This is how I stayed, for I don't know how long. I tried to shut out everything outside of myself, everything that wasn't in my own head, before shutting down my own thoughts, and sitting there numb in a fetal position. I was numb to everything outside of myself until I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard the shuffling of feet on the ground.

Hearing and recognizing the stride, like any good hunter, any good _killer, _would, I returned to reality, everything washing over me like a tidal wave at once: the cold, my stiff, numb limbs, and then, moving slightly, Peeta invaded my senses, the familiarity that was so uniquely him and had been so comforting that I had it memorized. I felt the warmth that surrounded him and sniffed lightly his smell: the smell of bread and baked goods that had soaked into his skin, like the alcohol had with Haymitch. Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around me, and ran his other hand over my head and down my braid, tentatively, almost as if I would crack and break if he pushed down too hard, like glass. He leaned down to my ear, so that I could feel his breath hot on my neck.

"That's horrible what they are doing." Peeta says quietly, even though the slight wind and his proximity to my ear would be enough to keep from being overheard. I nodded, my chin against my knees, silently agreeing with him and willing him to continue.

"Katniss…we have to help these kids. We have to give them all the knowledge we can stuff into their heads in their short time with us. We have to give them hope."

I nodded again, thinking about what information we could give them. Information that might save their lives or help ease them abruptly into training and entering into a death match none of us chose to participate in or helped create. Lifesaving information about the training stations, and how it might indicate the type of arena, or about the sponsors or the games in general. Things that Haymitch should have been advising us in from the beginning, instead of being drunk off his ass from the moment we were reaped until we showed some sort of promise and became slightly more functional, and more coherent. But then, suddenly, a wave crashed over me, swallowing me and enveloping me in its dark, cold confines.

"I don't think I can do this" I said slowly, turning my face into his arm. "Peeta, I can't do this."

Peeta's breath hitched in his throat, and he looked past the backyard that we were now in, concentrating on something that was hard to see in the darkness, even with his good eyesight: the shadows in the forest. My forest, really, the forest outside district twelve.

"Katniss, you can do this." Peeta said, pausing slightly to form an argument. "Katniss… you have to do this. But you won't be alone. I won't let you do this alone."

I nodded into his arm, squeezing his bicep with my hand in a gesture of thanks. I brought my eyes to meet his, and after a silent conversation, allowed him to pull me into a standing position on the top step of the stoop, with his arm still wrapped around me. Quietly, he led me across the square, away from the vacant house, and toward the house of our mentor, which had a small light on inside the living room. Peeta's hand rubbed circles on my arm, and he still had me tucked into his side. I cold breeze rippled past us, and I realized I hadn't thought to put on shoes in my guilty haze, and I didn't think to put on a jacket either. Peeta was squeezing me to his side not only for the show of it, because we had no doubts that there were cameras in the streets, but also for my warmth. Another breeze ripped through the air, and I burrowed more into his side.

"I wish I thought to wear a sweater or something." Peeta said, looking down at me with a sheepish look on his face, "I wasn't even thinking of how cold it was."

"It's fine, really." I said, crossing my arms and leaning into his side. Even though it was early spring, there were still some pockets of snow on the ground. Luckily, I was wearing thick socks I normally wore for hunting, so my feet weren't getting too cold.

"No, it's not. I should've thought to bring one. Or at least be wearing one to give to you." He said, a small crinkle appearing between his eyebrows as he directed us around a shallow puddle. "But when I heard…when I saw what was happening. I knew we needed to talk."

I looked down at Peeta's attire, and saw that he was only wearing a white textured long sleeve shirt, jeans, and casual slip on shoes. The shirt was smeared with various paint colors and with what looked like frosting.

"How'd you find me?" I asked, pressing my cheek into his ribs, huddling into his warm figure.

"It wasn't too hard. I saw Prim looking worriedly out the window. I figured you had left the house. If I didn't find you here I would've gone to the Seam, and if you weren't there I would've waited on your doorstep. I needed to see you. I wasn't okay. You aren't okay. You're freezing."

"Really, Peeta, I'll be fine." I said, moving up the stairs at roughly the same pace as Peeta.

"No, you shouldn't be out in the cold like this." Peeta said, ushering me up to the door like a mother duck would with her ducklings or Hazelle would do with her children, even sullen Gale. I smiled at that thought.

I could imagine Peeta being a male version of Hazelle as a parent, with a gaggle of children around him, all gathered around in a circle, waving their plump little arms and legs up at their father, their little blonde curls bouncing in anticipation of cookies or some other sweet that Peeta would give them.

"But you are right about one thing, Katniss." Peeta said, pulling me back into the moment, "We will be fine. You, me, and Haymitch, we are a team. We will take care of each other, and it will all be okay for us. I promise."

I looked up at him, into his eyes. In that moment, from my vantage point tucked underneath his arm like his baby bird, he looked like the most determined man in the world. Powerful and strong in stance and in conviction. He turned, breaking eye contact, and pushed the door open, and guided me inside, releasing me from underneath the warmth of his arm and gesturing me into Haymitch's home. Although the heat emitting from farther into the interior was very tempting, the smell indicated something was probably rotting or decaying. We moved into the room where the only light was shining from, and were greeted by a very inebriated Haymitch, laying sprawled out on his loveseat, grasping a slightly dusty bottle by its neck like it was a tether to a lifeboat. For him, it was probably the tether to his sanity.

"Do you kids just barge into everyone's houses like this or should I just feel honored?" Haymitch slurred, letting out a short burb at the end.

"No, actually, just yours. And only because you're the least hospitable man in the district." I fired back, moving towards him and attempting to snatch the bottle of alcohol away to no avail. The day I had a conversation with a sober Haymitch would be the day when the fence around the district was torn down, like that would ever happen. But for a drunk, he had surprisingly quick reflexes and a strong grip.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I haven't seen anyone who hasn't been considered family in your house anyway, other than your fiancé that is. You are not the paragon of hospitality yourself." Haymitch retorted, taking another sip from his bottle.

"Our lack of hospitality isn't what we are here to talk about, Haymitch." Peeta said his voice tight and strained, "You heard, I know you had to."

I turned my attention to Haymitch's television, which is now showing parties and celebrations in the streets of the Capitol, and even in the square in front of the President's mansion. All of these places look familiar from our Victory Tour and the celebration there, although I wasn't admiring the architecture or looking for new trends that people were wearing like Effie was as we drove through the streets. I was mainly looking at Peeta, hoping that he would do all the talking, that it would be okay, and that President Snow was sufficiently convinced. That and looking down at the engagement ring on my finger, which I took off immediately after the cameras left 12. It wasn't customary here, and feeling it on my finger always made me feel like a guilty liar.

"Yeah, I saw it. Of _course_ I saw it. I can't believe it's been this long. Another Quarter Quell? Ha!" Haymitch slurred drunkenly, taking another swig from his bottle, "At least it's your problem this year, sweetheart, you too blondie. I will be there to assist, of course, and to soak up the _glory_ of being a winning mentor, but I will truly be able to solely partake in the refreshments this year!"

"Haymitch, how do we do that? How can we help them survive?" Peeta urged from his perch on Haymitch's coffee table, effectively blocking his view of the screen and stopping any further alcohol induced rants against the Capitol.

"Do you know what it's like to fall in a hole? Sweetheart, I bet you do. This is one hole you can't climb or paint your way out of. And the hole just keeps getting deeper, and lined with more bodies."


	10. Chapter 10

Phoenix Ashes Chapter 10

Peeta sighed into his hands while I stood stoically. The body count around us was rising, wasn't it? And soon we would be bringing two more children into this terror. However, this was inevitable. The only factor that could be changed was the children that would be drawn, and if they killed or were killed. Realistically, we would probably lose both. If I was too optimistic, we would only loose one. Peeta ran his hands over his face and exhaled deeply, while Haymitch took another swig of the bottle in his hand.

"Well, we'll just have to keep the body count down to a minimum then, won't we?" I said, resigned and in a sarcastic tone.

"Ha, sweetheart, you'll be lucky if you don't lose them all." Haymitch said, words slurring. He took another swig of the bottle, swallowed quickly, and then went for another, seeing it was empty, he threw the empty bottle at the wall where it shattered. "See kids? There goes another one! Ha!"

"Cut the shit Haymitch." Peeta said, his voice as cold as I ever had heard it.

"What is that lover boy? Unfortunately, I don't have my knife out of my back pocket yet." Haymitch said, chuckling.

"Tell us how to mentor. Tell us how to help them. Tell us what you did to get us out." Peeta replied frantically with his hand balled into a fist on the table beside him.

"Manipulation, kid. You know how to do that right?" He said, looking at Peeta, "The girl might not be so good at it, but you and the cameras are pretty friendly. Manipulate the situation, manipulate the gamemakers, swindle the sponsors, and just hope that you can talk the tributes out of a corner."

"What if we can't do that Haymitch?" I said, the desperation leaking into my voice.

I couldn't do that. I couldn't speak for others, especially if that was what it was going to take to save other children's lives. I could barely be charming enough to convince Snow that Peeta and I were real. I still wasn't sure if the engagement, which still felt like a lump of salt on my tongue, was enough. I don't think that I was strong or cunning enough to pull this off for two other people, in the hope that one survived. I wasn't even enough for myself.

"Well, Sweetheart" Haymitch choked out, "Then you hope that someone else has a plan. A plan that works in your favor. Just don't be a part of another person's plan, you two are no one's pawns. Be proactive, and always be thinking two steps ahead. Always have a beta plan in case the alpha plan does not work out, and have a backup for that one too."

"Thank you Haymitch." Peeta said, looking at Haymitch, who was swaying slightly in his seat like he was either going to pass out or like he was reliving bad memories. In most cases, I would probably say it was the first, but now it was like he was swaying under the weight of the forty eight children that he had led to a Capitol slaughterhouse.

"Boy, you have to choose one. One tribute can make it out alive. You know this. I chose her. I got lucky. Choose early, and choose wisely. That choice- it's crucial that it's right. You two- you two were just an anomaly. You fucked the system. That can't happen again. Especially not at such a huge games for the Capitol." Haymitch muttered.

Peeta looked up at me with a resigned expression and tired eyes. He got up off of Haymitch's coffee table, which looked like it wouldn't hold his weight for much longer anyway. He moved around the table quickly, his gait being the only thing heard in the house. He switched off the TV, stopping the parties and festivities of the Quarter Quell announcement from invading the space of the Quarter Quell's last victor. Peeta then held out his hand to me, his expression taking on that of the strong, confident man, someone who I would trust and allow to lead me anywhere, who I can see being a caring and sweet father.

"Let's go Katniss. We can do this. We won't just be pawns, mentors sending children to slaughter. We'll be strategic, we'll come up with a plan, okay?" And with that he nestled me under his wing again, and we started towards the front door, his body heat already warming me from the cold outside.

"Oh, and Haymitch? You are wrong." Peeta said, "These children deserve a chance, a chance that Katniss and I will give them. We're not you. We're not resigned."

"Oh the gall of you boy, you could take on President Snow himself! Just think, one year ago you couldn't even talk to Sweetheart here! Oh, boy, I think I should be proud!" Haymitch said, fumbling for another bottle of alcohol.

Without another word, Peeta opened the door and we were over the threshold and descending the stairs. Once we were on the cobblestones, Peeta spoke again.

"I'm sorry I spoke for you back there. I just…I just want to reassure you. You won't be going through this alone, you know that right? I just think that coming up with a strategy, a solid strategy, with someone who has been through this with countless children will help us right? I mean, I've never mentored anyone before, and the only mentor we've seen is Haymitch. I don't want to fail them, Katniss. I don't want to fail you." Peeta said, his voice getting smaller and smaller as he continued.

"Remember how you said you'd always stay with me when I had that nightmare?" I said as Peeta lifted my sock-clad body over a puddle. I felt him nod as he put me down on the other side. "I'm planning on holding you to that promise. We're in this together right?"

"Always, Katniss, always." He said, as we hustled up the stairs of my home like we were one being.

Peeta swung open the door, and was greeted by the anxious face of my mother. He quietly whispered an apology to her for not returning me sooner, and proposed that he should help me up the stairs and to bed to warm me up. My mother apparently nodded, as Peeta started moving towards the stairs, as my socks squished between my toes as we descended the steps. I could feel her look of concern aimed at my back, and could feel her eyes on us, trying to access what we were to each other. Gale and I were never that close physically, and I hadn't been nestled under someone's arm since my father's death. It was comforting to be there, in a spot that I fit perfectly, however it was a little off-putting to me how safe and comfortable I felt there.

Peeta's strong arm kept my body relatively warm, as it was slung over my shoulder and hugged my waist lightly. We crept towards my door, making a grand effort not to wake Prim in the room next to mine or Hazelle and the kids in the room across the hall. We opened the door, and Peeta led me towards my bed, not even turning on the light, probably due to the similar layout of our houses. I hadn't moved anything, not even the placements of the furniture, since I had been here. I just hadn't had the energy or the desire too. He sat me on the bed, and kneeled in front of me, removing my socks and tossing them behind him into the laundry bin. I swung around, and untucked the covers, tucking my body in between my bed's cool sheets. Peeta tucked my blankets up to my chin, as I lay my head on my pillow. Peeta kissed my head in a goodnight farewell, and one tear slid down my cheek. I did not deserve to have this man as my husband, if simply because I choked on that last word and could hardly bear to think it. Peeta tiptoed towards the door silently.

"Peeta" I said, sleep heavy in my voice, before I paused

"Yeah, Katniss." Peeta said, turning around, is face seemingly glowing because of the light behind him.

"Thank you, Peeta. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow" Peeta said, hesitantly, then walked out the door, looking like he wanted to say something else.

I woke up the next morning, seeing the light streaming through the window nearest to my bed. I was up immediately after remembering the announcement, Haymitch, and Peeta. Snow blinding children. I dressed quickly and stealthily in my hunting boots, older pants that I would use for hunting, and one of my father's sweaters. I didn't feel like greeting or talking to anyone who was still in my house- including Gale or Prim. I was too ashamed and helpless to go downstairs and see Prim's downtrodden face, afraid once more for the reaping that might blind her, or Gale trying to harness his hatred of the Capitol. The only people worse to encounter would be Hazelle, who still had two children in the reaping, or Vick, whose first reaping would come with the added threat that the arena would be the last thing that he would ever see.

I am not good with emotions. I am not good with feelings. So I scale the drainage pipe outside my window, quietly, silently, like I am hunting a buck outside the district, in my woods. In the same mindset, I walk quietly over to Peeta's home, knocking on the door, but not waiting for his answer before I enter. Peeta is standing by the stove, kneading bread in his kitchen; although, by the smell of bread that drew me towards the kitchen, Peeta already had a batch of bread in. Peeta looked up and greeted me with a small smile. I jumped up onto the counter opposite where he was baking and looked at him expectantly. Peeta pressed a warm cheese bun into my hands from where they were cooling on the cooling rack.

"I went down to greet the train today." Peeta said slowly, "It was parcel day. The packages should be delivered now."

"Oh, I had forgotten all about it with everything." I said. The fact that I would forget about food, free food at that, was a foreign concept. It just shows to me, and to the whole district, how much I've changed. And how much better of a person and Victor Peeta was then I am.

"They delivered things for us too, Katniss." Peeta said, his words measured. His forearms were tensing, and his jaw was clenched.

"What did we get, Peeta?" I said, trying to keep my voice calm, as to not alert the cameras or recorders that were most likely built into our houses to the gravity of our conversation.

"A week's worth of baking supplies, for a start." Peeta said, smiling tightly. The smile did not meet his eyes, not by a long shot.

"Anything else, Peeta?" I questioned, becoming impatient. My anxiousness seeped into my words.

"The normal foodstuffs we normally receive. New clothes for the reaping. Yours are on the front table." Peeta said, gesturing to the front table.

I went to the package, and opened it. Inside was a mint green dress with a lace overlay, which was more feminine than I would have dressed. If I had a choice, I would just wear a casual pair of pants. The material was silky and not anything I would have chosen for myself. But it was light and airy. I understood what Cinna was going for. Innocent bride-to-be, not threatening at all, but still old enough to not be considered a child, still old enough to play the game.

"Cinna outdid himself again, the dress is lovely." I said, jumping back on the counter.

"That's not all that was brought, Katniss." Peeta whispered, gesturing to the small white box on the counter, that looked like it had been banished to the dark corner of cabinet space, where it was out of Peeta's eyesight and the light did not hit it directly.

I walked over to the box, and opened it. Inside were three envelopes, and I flipped past "Haymitch Abernathy" and "Peeta Mellark" until I got to "Katniss Everdeen". Peeta was being mysterious with our mail now? I slid my fingernail, which still had a bit of dirt underneath from the other day's hunting, under the fine linen paper. Paper that was better than any in the district, and even a better quality than I had seen in the tribute center of the Capitol. This was probably made in District One, meant for only higher level government officials and Capitolites. Yet, the paper had made it to District Twelve, the dirtiest, poorest district. The paper, however, as if to prove its beauty, shimmered when it hit the light coming through the window. It was a subtle sheen though, not like glitter or diamonds but like the stars in the sky or the glint of the sun off of metal. Or the sheen of pearls.

I pulled the delicate paper, which although strong and the best quality that I had ever seen, was edged in what looked like a scalloped lace design cutout. The distinct scent of chemically altered roses invaded my senses. The paper slipped out of the envelope, and I read the shiny, gold writing. The gold block letters did not perfectly match the pearly quality of the paper, and looks to me to be too forced, too regal, and just too imposing on the page. I read my name in the print. It's an invitation requesting my presence. Requesting my presence at what is my own wedding.

"President Cornelius Snow requests your presence at the marriage of his Victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen." Peeta recites as my eyes scan over the golden print on the page. A date and time is listed. One that is set just after the games should end if they take the normal few weeks.

"Well, looks like we'll be husband and wife in a few weeks, honey. Are you ready to be tethered to the female Haymitch for the rest of your life?" I snorted.

"You know, this isn't how I imagined it, Katniss. I mean, I've been dreaming about marrying you since I was five years old." Peeta said sadly.

I knew this wasn't how he imagined it. It definitely wasn't going to be what I had envisioned for my life either. Especially because this was never in the cards for me.

"I imagined us going to the Justice Building not for the Games, but for our wedding. I imagined us walking there, holding hands, you in your mother's white dress. I imagined us having a toasting with bread that I made, in front of the fireplace in our home. You whispering declarations of love to me, while feeding me golden brown toast. Me whispering every promise I have made to you over and over in my head for years. Promises to love, protect, and honor you forever. To let you be your own person, to always support you. To always stay by your side and never leave you. To show you how beautiful you were, always Katniss. Always. But never like this."

For a moment, if I close my eyes, I can see his vision. Getting married in my mother's white dress that she has packed away to preserve the delicate lace band in the middle. Signing the papers in the Justice Building with Peeta, then running to a little house in the Seam, a government assigned one, to toast hearty, nutty bread in, strangely identical to the bread that saved my life. Dancing at the toasting to a violin and a host of volunteer singers with Prim and Peeta and all the people I love. I see in my mind, the distant possibility, the future that could have been. Then I stare at the gold-embossed invitation, and that future that I wish I could've grasped and held forever disappears.

"Yeah, never like this." I say softly, staring at the way Peeta's hands knead the dough.

I take the envelope and stuff it into my pants. The small golden envelope drops to the bottom of my pocket by my knee, as the vast pocket was used for early morning foraging and carrying an extra knife, not for carrying delicate invitations. I don't think I've ever received an invitation to anything, much less my own wedding. In District Twelve, most people are invited to toastings by word of mouth. Seam houses are so small, anyway, that only the immediate family and friends are invited to the toasting ceremony. Merchant toastings are larger and feature more cakes and food, but even those do not have invitations. I jump back on the counter, taking up my former position so that I can see Peeta preparing another batch of bread dough for the oven. Peeta leaves the dough to rise, and takes two loaves of break out of the oven, one white and the other brown, smelling tantalizingly like cinnamon and roasted nuts. I take another cheese bun and stuff it in my mouth.

"Well, Lover Boy, are you ready to deal with me forever?" I reiterate, wondering if Peeta is truly ready to put up with my surly demeanor and the endless problems that seem to surround the Girl on Fire for the rest of his life.

"Katniss, I've been ready to marry you since we were five."

At this I fall silent. I eat a piece of cinnamon and nut bread spread with goat cheese that Prim had given Peeta a few days previous. Peeta cleaned off the flour and sticky dough on the counter with a damp cloth until it was near sparkling, then had some bread of his own. I spent the rest of the day watching Peeta paint in his upstairs bedroom, the invitation burning a hole in my pocket. Peeta had me perched on a stool, out of his line of sight, while he painted what looked like a beach from District Four. As I sat behind him, the shape of the beach and the sand dunes took shape, and the waves and sky beyond took shape as the afternoon wore on. Finally, the sun started to set, and my trance broke as a bird's wings fluttered outside the open window and flew away off the tree branch.

"I have to go." I said, getting up abruptly off of the stool and striding towards the door.

"Katniss…" Peeta replied, rising off his stool and stretching his muscles that rippled under his shirt, "Feel free to come back any time. Tomorrow, even. Tonight if you need to."

I nodded, and started to stride down the stairs. Then, on a dime, I turned around and jogged back into Peeta's art room. Peeta was again sitting behind his easel, putting sculpting waves in the sea. Before I could second guess myself, hugged Peeta from behind. Peeta exhaled, and put his hand over mine that were in the center of his chest. His other hand played with the end of my braid, which fell in between us.

"Thank you" I whispered. I straightened up, the invitation crinkling in my pocket.

I slinked off, moving quickly from Peeta's front door to mine. I quickly entered my house, avoiding the inquisitive glances of Hazelle, Gale, and Prim. On the inside, I was shattered. I scampered into my room, hoping to avoid the rest of my family, including the Hawthorne children. I flopped onto my bed, and opened up the drawer where my ring had resided inside my bedside table. I turned the ring around a few times in my hands, feeling the cold metal and unyielding weight in my hand. It seems so final, so present, like putting on this ring, this foreign Capitol symbol, makes the impending Games real, makes the impending wedding real.

My week continued with the same routine, with only minimal amounts of sleep and an innumerable amount of time at night staring at the pearl envelope that had made its way onto my nightstand. The days are spent the same as the first: the day starting out on Peeta's counter, then Peeta's stool as waves and a sky begin to take shape under Peeta's skillful hands. The bird outside never returns to its perch.

"It's a big big big day!" Effie says as she staggers over to us in the Justice Building lobby on heels that must be half a foot tall.

"Hello, Effie." Peeta said, grabbing onto my hand and reaching out to steady Effie as she came to a stop in front of us and teetered onto her toes.

"Effie, you look like a duck teetering around like that, you know that? One day you're just going to topple over." Haymitch cackled. I chuckled under my breath at his comparison to Effie as a duck. Today her lips were yellow, to match her yellow and blue patterned dress and her powder blue wig.

"Haymitch, that is not a polite comment, remember your manners." Effie snapped, then turned towards Peeta and I, "Oh Dears you're mentors, aren't you? This is a joyous day, we are finally a team! Katniss, you look beautiful. Peeta, a dashing young man."

"Thank you, Effie." I replied, and Peeta echoed my sentiment.

"Well, it's a big day! You've given your bags to the conductor?" We nodded our assent, Haymitch huffing in the background, and Effie plowed on-"Good. Haymitch hasn't been drinking too much, has he? I would like him upright and firmly on stage this year."

"He's only had a few tumblers since last night, Effie." Peeta replied. Peeta had only left him one bottle.

"Good, good, good. Where's the Mayor…Ah! There you are Sir, how lovely to see you and your wife, every year. Okay now, Undersees, Haymitch and children, line up, line up, we will be entering from the stairs outside…" Effie said, lining us up like we were small schoolchildren, forcing Peeta and I apart. Effie then starts marching us outside, leading the way like she were our teacher through the backdoor and outside onto the dirt road, hobbling on her heels but somehow staying upright and dignified.

We march up onto the podium that the Capitol crew has literally erected in mere hours in front of the Justice building. I can immediately feel the Capitol cameras on us. They seem to be everywhere, even though I know there are only four, and they all are filming the procession entering. I flash a fake smile for them, and keep it on, even though my cheeks start to ache from those muscles disuse.

We make an interesting line up as we assemble into the line of seats facing the children. We seem like we have gotten together and rehearsed our seating arrangement- the Mayor and his wife sit in the first two chairs, like always, then Effie next to Mrs. Undersee, and Haymitch next to her. I am glad that Peeta and I get to inhabit the last two seats- although they are still on stage and seem to be very much front and center, and from the stares that we are getting, very visible, they are still not directly in front of the reaping bowls or podium. They are only a few strides from the stairs, which I count as a good thing. As we sit, Peeta grabs a hold of my hand, and squeezes it. I squeeze back, and then loosen my hand, allowing Peeta to drop it if he wants. Peeta doesn't, he just tightens his hold. Mayor Undersee stands, and Mrs. Undersee visibly trembles without him at her side, but by the time the Mayor is at the podium, she has stopped her eyes seem to focus not on him, but on Madge in the crowd in a pale pink dress, nearer to the front, in her penultimate year at the reaping.

"Today we begin to celebrate the Third Quarter Quell." Mayor Undersee begins, reading off of a card he pulled out of his jacket, "The Capitol marks the defeat of the Districts with a new addition to the rules of the Hunger Games in remembrance of the twenty fifth anniversaries. For this, the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games, to remind of the displacement and confusion of war, the tributes will be blinded in the arena."

At this, everyone was silent. A baby in the back of the square begins to cry, and at this Mayor Undersee clears his throat and motions for the District's copy of the Treaty of Treason, which is on an elaborate scroll, from the Peacekeeper standing beside the doors of the Justice Building.

"'In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of twelve and eighteen at a public "reaping". These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol. And then transferred to a public arena, where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.'" The Mayor read in a clear but bored voice as he had been doing this since before Peeta and I were even born. He motions for the Peacekeeper to take back the cumbersome document, and sits down.

"And, now children, citizens of Twelve, and all of Panem, we salute those Victors of your district who have brought honor to their home-district with their courage and sacrifice." Effie says after hobbling up to the podium.

"Win Paucity, Victor of the Tenth Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the Fiftieth Hunger Games" Haymitch stands up when his name is read, even though he sways a little on his feet.

"Katniss Everdeen, Victor of the Seventy Forth Hunger Games" Haymitch looks at me, and nods his head, motioning for me to stand. I release my hand from Peeta's, my palm slightly sweaty, and stand up.

"And Peeta Mellark, also Victor of the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games. Your District honors your sacrifice and your government recognizes your service." Peeta stands, and immediately grabs my hand and squeezes it, something that I see the cameras zoom in on. I turn my hand outwards a little, so that the ring that symbolizes our engagement is showing.

"And as we all have been waiting for, ladies first." Effie says, as always. I squeeze Peeta's hand tighter in mine as Effie walks to the reaping ball. Not Prim. Not Prim. Not Prim not Prim not Prim hammers like an ongoing mantra in my head, wanting to explode out of my every pore and encompass my very being.

Effie pulls a name from the big glass bowl that holds the name of every eligible girl in the district. In my head, I wish for one thing: that it's not Prim. I scan through the crowd, and my eyes land on Prim: in a little blue dress made of cotton with a white collar that Cinna ordered for her from a catalogue, and two braids tied with white ribbons that I tied this morning at the kitchen table. Two white slips have "Primrose Everdeen" typed on the surface. I don't think that I could bare to see Prim's blue orbs clouded or closed forever, blinded because of something that happened seventy-five years ago. Especially because this time I wouldn't be able to volunteer for her. I would only be able to stand by and watch from the sidelines until she was in the Capitol and blinded.

"Wren Floriadian." Effie announced.

A skinny young woman-a girl really- stepped out of the section designated for girls of sixteen and walked slowly but delicately up to the stage, where she stood by Effie's left, a short distance away from the female's reaping ball. The pounding thoughts in my head stopped, seemingly in relief that my blood, my Prim, was safe. That it wasn't another replay of last year. In my mind, I attempted to be a mentor, gather what initial impressions and thoughts I had on the girl. She had absolutely no muscle mass, and being from the Seam, no real stand-out skill to speak of like a butcher's son would have. Her dress was rose colored, and had quite a bit more skin showing in the chest area than was necessary or really appropriate, although it didn't seem purposeful, as the dress seemed to hang off of her as if it were on a clothesline. I think I saw her one night by Cray's house before he was usurped, a position I could have easily been in myself. However, other than poverty, I did not see any similarities between us.

"And now, for the boys." Effie said, leaving Wren in the middle of the stage and walking over to the reaping ball containing the boys' names.

Not Gale. Not a Hawthorne. My mind thrummed this too, but not as strongly as for Prim. Prim was my priority, my sister, my charge, and although I had some responsibility to the Hawthornes, they were their own unit, with their own protective strategies and fail-safes in place. However, I couldn't help but wish that Rory would get out of this one safe. This was his second one, and it was brutal. He had many more years to go, many more years to die-but not this one.

"Lake Prosire." Effie called into the crowd. A boy emerged from farther back, farther than I had hoped.

He was just fourteen, and was small. From, the Seam, of course. Steel grey eyes, and shorter hair to keep the lice away. Being that young, he didn't look like he had gained any muscle mass yet. If I hadn't seen where Lake had come from in the crowd, I would've thought he was younger. Twelve, probably, not from Prim's grade or I would've known the name right off. He walked fine, had a good gait on him. But, seeing the threadbare shorts and collared shirt he wore told me that he wouldn't have any special skills, wouldn't have anything to get by. He barely had the physique to survive against careers outside maybe outrunning them.

I look upon the two Seam children who have been chosen and their spindly frames. The girl's protruding collarbones. The boy's knobby knees. They are already dead. They don't even stand a chance.

**Author's Note: The Treaty of Treason excerpt is taken from the movie version of The Hunger Games, and was found on the Hunger Games Wiki website. **


End file.
